


Love You For Nothing

by 20SomethingSuperHeroes



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Domestic Avengers, F/M, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Hydra (Marvel), Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Pre-Civil War (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-02 00:23:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5226806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/20SomethingSuperHeroes/pseuds/20SomethingSuperHeroes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grace Porter came to Albuquerque to get away from her broken heart.  But Bucky Barnes followed her there.  And it turns out that he was all she needed to make her whole.  But will their happiness last?</p><p>Setting: A month after the events of Ant-Man, spanning the two months following.  It may have ended last week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love You For Nothing

Albuquerque is the crossroads of mountains, deserts, and dreams that must be left behind temporarily. 

It is also where dreams are sometimes picked up where they were left off. That was why he had come to New Mexico: to find his broken dream and mend it, and then to live it as fully as he could for as long as he could.

But he had to find her first. All he had to go off of was a name. He braved being seen in public and went to a library, thanked his lucky stars he had learned to use a computer, typed in the name and searched. He found the phone number and address and wrote it down. And he left as quietly as he had come.

 

Whoever penned the phrase “absence makes the heart grow fonder” should be canned--at least that was what Grace thought.

Fed up with a job and a life that was getting nowhere, Grace Porter had gone to New Mexico. A change of scenery, a different job, a change in lifestyle--certainly this would have been enough to make her forget. And she hadn’t.

It had been a year since their date. He had come back into her life just for a few minutes back in May and then left. Whatever progress she had made in getting over him had come to an abrupt, screeching halt. That, on top of the other fallout from the attack of the Free Range Party at the Standfer and Wilson firm, had made Grace decide that she needed to find a different job.

A good thing, then, that her old boss had told her that one of his fellow lawyers in Albuquerque was looking for a new assistant. Grace had applied and gotten hired immediately. She had moved to Albuquerque in July. Oliver and Paxton Associates at Law was a similar firm, but Mr. Oliver was much more considerate of Grace’s desire to gain experience in social work than Mr. Standfer had been, so she was much more involved with his cases and clients. Albuquerque was far enough from Denver to be a fresh start and close enough so she could go home and visit her family and friends there when she liked--though she really didn’t have time to. The firm itself was in a suburban office in an attractive neighborhood within reasonable distance from downtown. She found a very nice apartment complex to live in only a few miles away from where she worked.

Since coming to Albuquerque she had taken to spending her evenings and weekends in bars and clubs in downtown and around her neighborhood. She had made a few friends and met a few interesting guys, but she had yet to find some man in whom she took a serious interest. That was all she needed, right? Someone else to make her forget?  
When she did take time to seriously and honestly think about what had happened, she could only draw one conclusion. It was a conclusion she refused to accept. Yet at what point, she wondered, would she be forced to admit it? 

 

The point came one afternoon in early September. 

She was just pulling her car into the driveway after work. She glanced in one of her mirrors and saw him.

Oh no, she thought. He was stalking her--every definition of the word “stalking” qualified here. And yet she couldn’t call the police. She could call S.H.I.E.L.D., if she was desperate, but what could they do?

But he just stood there and watched her. Slowly, she got out of her car. Then she walked around and stood in front of him. There was no getting to the door of her apartment without passing him. So it would do no good to not acknowledge him. 

He stood there and watched her with his hands in his pockets, not really looking at her but glancing up at her like he was being forced to. He was really uncomfortable right then, she thought. He didn’t want this any more than she did.

Or did she want him there?

“Hello,” said Grace.

“Hi,” he said quietly.

“So...what are you doing here?”

“I came to apologize.”

“Apologize, for what?”

“For...leaving you. Kissing you and then leaving you. Twice. But especially the first time.”

“Okay.”

“Look, I understand if you’re mad about that,” he said. “You have every right to be. And I should never have done that. I barely even knew you.”

“No. You knew me...well enough. I’ve...kissed guys I’ve known for even less time.”

“Even so, I shouldn’t have. And I left because...well I told you, in the note, that I had thought that...the bad people who were chasing me...were going to hurt you.”

Grace nodded. “That’s understandable.”

“Well, yes, but it was partly an excuse. I really left because...I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“Well...not anybody else. I was afraid of myself. I...had never...there’s just a lot I want to say, but if you have somewhere else to go--”

“No, I don’t.”

“Well, I won’t keep you long, then. But I just wanted to say, I love you. I loved you then. And I still do now.”

“Is that it?” said Grace.

He just looked at her.

Grace made up her mind right then. She couldn’t hide from her own feelings, either.

“You know what, I think there’s more where that came from,” she said. “Let me change my clothes. I’ll take you for a walk. You can come in,” she said.

“Oh, all right--if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t.”

Grace unlocked the door, She stepped inside and held the door open for him. She went to her room to change out of her work clothes into jeans, walking shoes, a blouse and a pale pink sweater. He sat on the couch and waited for her.

“All right, are we ready?” she asked him.

“Are you?”

Grace didn’t have an answer for that. She opened the door and let him outside. She locked it behind them.

It was early evening. The air was cool and the horizon to the west was fading into pink. They walked along the sidewalk away from her apartment.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“To a park. There’s lots of nice trails around there.”

He didn’t say anything. Then she stopped. He stopped as well and looked at her.

“What?” he said.

“I’ll have you know that Steve Rogers came and visited the shelter last year, right before Christmas.”

“He did?” His face didn’t really register any emotion.

Grace nodded.

“What did he tell you?”

“Everything.”

He closed his eyes slowly. 

“Look, it’s okay,” she said. She found herself reaching out to touch his arm. “You’ve been through a lot of terrible things. And I am sorry for you. But maybe you’d like to tell me  
your side of the story.”

He looked up at her. He noticed that her hand was touching him. She moved her hand away, and they continued to walk.

She was sure that if she didn’t speak up then he would never talk to her.

“So where have you been?” asked Grace. “Steve Rogers said he was unable to find you.”

“I’ve been everywhere,” he said quietly.

“Care to elaborate?”

“Well...after I left Denver last year, I headed east, and north a little. You see, ever since I left Hydra, I’ve just been going from place to place, trying to keep a low profiIe so they  
wouldn’t find me. And other parties...well, you know about them. So I was in Minnesota for a while, after I left Colorado. And then it got colder up north, so I went south. No big deal. I did end up in Arizona for most of the winter. There was this nice family in Phoenix that took me in, the Tanners. I stayed with them until April. But by the time I’d gotten to that point, I’d realized that I’d been letting fear dominate my life. A little too much. I realized that if I kept running away from my problems, then I wouldn’t get very far at all.”  
She was having a hard time wrapping her head around the fact that this was the most personal information he had ever given her. She could only nod at him. 

“So I headed up to Denver. And in Denver...” He looked at her.

“So in Denver...you were looking for me.”

“Yes. Well, I did go back to the shelter for a few days. It was nice there. But yes, I went to find you. I’m sorry if I’m creeping you out by stalking you.”

She sighed. “Well, compared with other stalkers, I think your motives are a little better. But how did you find out I was here?”

“One of your coworkers told me,” he replied. And then when I got here I went to a library so I could look up your address. It wasn’t hard to find.”

“I get it,” said Grace. “So what do you need to tell me?”

“Well, it’s just...what I said to you last year, in that note, was true. I really do...have strong feelings for you. But I was afraid of…”

“A lot of things.”

“A lot of things, yes, that’s a good way to put it. So I thought I’d leave. I thought maybe I’d get over you, but I haven’t. I’ve made a few friends, over the last year, and I’ve  
confided in them. They weren’t exactly pleased that I’d just up and left you, you know. But they encouraged me to...talk to you and just check with you, see if I hadn’t hurt your feelings too badly.”

They came around the corner and crossed the street to enter a broad park. It was a lawn with trees spaced across it and crisscrossed with a walking path. Side by side, they came onto the path.

He continued, “And if, you know, you’d be interested, they suggested that maybe we could have a real relationship. I know it sounds crazy, and it did sound crazy to me, at first--me, the Winter Soldier, having a normal relationship with a normal person.” He looked at her like he wouldn’t have taken his eyes off of her if he’d had the choice. “But, a lot of people--especially the Tanner family--they helped me see past that. They told me I could try to have as normal a life as wanted. And the more I’ve thought about it, the more I’ve liked the idea.”

“So...wanting me, that’s just part of you wanting a normal life?”

“No...it’s bigger than that,” he said as they continued walking. “It’s...the fact that I’ve learned something that I didn’t know last year. That I can love you and be with you. And my friends told me that I had to decide what I wanted in my life, what I wanted to be. It wasn’t something they could do for me. I had to choose for myself. And I chose you. You were the first person I met after I left Hydra that I could trust, that I could really be comfortable with. You were the first person who helped me realize that I couldn’t hide myself forever. Even though I tried to, afterward, but I soon realized you were right. And of all the people I came to know over the last year, you are the only person that I have had these feelings for.” He stopped. He looked down at the ground, ashamed of himself. “But I know, that after everything I’ve done to you, I don’t deserve you. And it would be too much to ask if you were still interested in me--I mean if you had ever truly cared about me. And I know you would probably rather have a normal guy--a guy who didn’t have my problems. But that’s just how I feel about you, Grace. I love you. You have the right to know that. That’s the only reason I’ve come back.”

“But why didn’t you come find me again in Denver after the shooting?” she said. “You knew where I was.”

“I wasn’t sure, exactly, what happened after the shooting.”

“We just moved to another office suite downstairs.”

“I figured that out. But I had to leave. There were people after me that I had to get away from. I would have stayed, but for that. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” said Grace.

He sighed and looked away from her again.

“So if you only came all this way...just to tell me that you love me...then...if you were going to ask me if I returned your feelings at all, and wanted to be with you, and I said no,  
what would you do next?”

He looked at her over his shoulder. “I would walk away. Kiss you goodbye, maybe, if you let me. But if it isn’t what you want, then I don’t want it either. I will respect your  
feelings.”

He looked away from her again, his head slumped down.

It was no use, Grace thought. If it was what he wanted, too, then why deny that she wanted it any longer?

“Bucky,” she said.

He lifted his head up.

“Do you still go by Bucky?”

“I will if you want me to,” he said. He turned to look at her. He looked at her expectantly. “That was the first name that anyone ever called me. I didn’t have a name. In spite of  
the fact that...I have a complicated relationship with the person who called me that, for a while it was the only name I had. And then the people I cared about called me that. But I will answer to whatever name you give me.”

“Bucky,” said Grace, stepping forward. She reached her hand out and took his--his left one, his metal one, she knew, but she was not afraid of it. “I...when I knew you, last year, in Denver, I had feelings for you as well. When you left, I thought I ought to forget you, since I’d probably never see you again. It was what any sensible person would have done. But as hard as I tried to move on, I couldn’t. And then when I saw you again, that day, I didn’t want to acknowledge it, but I knew then that I still cared for you. I moved out here because I thought maybe I could get away. I thought maybe as long as we weren’t able to have a relationship then there wasn’t really a point for me to love you. But...now you’re here. I can’t convince myself to say no. This is what I want, truly, as badly as you do. You are not like any other guy I’ve ever met--not because of your past, but because you’re...well, you. I don’t want a normal guy. I don’t need one to make me happy. But I don’t know how this is going to work out--”

“I’m not worried about that,” he said. He took a step closer to her and took her right hand in his. “I have always thought highly of you, because you were everything I could never be. Smart, talented, beautiful--”

She looked down, blushing.

“--and you had a life I could never hope to achieve. Even if I get to be in your life, you don’t have to do anything else for me. You don’t have to give me rides or get me a job or a place to stay or anything like that. Just as long as we were together. Yeah, I admit, it would be nice. But I’m doing just fine without any of that. I would love you for nothing. I don’t have anything to give you in return--just myself.” 

“But you can’t love me for nothing,” said Grace. “I am giving you my heart, and my heart is everything. You are everything.”

“I guess if it works,” he said. They hugged slowly, rocking back and forth on the spot for a moment. And then they leaned back and looked into each other’s eyes. And then he leaned down to kiss her.

It was the most beautiful kiss she’d ever gotten in her life. 

They broke apart and Grace knew that she had finally found what she wanted. He kissed her several more times, long, beautiful, passionate kisses. He stroked her hair and her back. She kept her arms around his neck like she was clinging on for dear life, because she was.

“Have you really loved me? All this time?” 

“Yes.”

 

He couldn’t believe his luck. She not only accepted his apology but his offer for a relationship. 

In the year and a half since he had left Hydra, he had had his share of happy moments, but this was better than all of them. 

Hand in hand, they walked together through the park and then back to her apartment while the sun set behind them. He asked her about her work. She told him about the law firm she had worked at in Denver and the one where she was working now. He listened to her eagerly, delighted. He had wished for so long to hear her voice.

He was wondering if she would ask him why he was still smiling. It was nearly dark and the sky was turning purple when they returned to her apartment. She hadn’t had dinner yet, and she asked him if he would like something to eat. He asked her if she would like help preparing dinner but she politely told him no. But he was content to watch her from the kitchen table. She thawed some chicken and then cooked the pieces in a frying pan with some olive oil, covering it with spices and seasonings. He really hadn’t noticed how hungry he was until that moment, but for now he savored the smell of cooking food and the idea that he had the luxury to wait around and eat it. She cut up some peppers and onions and threw them onto the skillet as well.

She set the table quickly. “Thank goodness I remembered to do the dishes last night. I just don’t do them very often--I rarely get company.” She smiled at him a little nervously.

“That’s fine,” said Bucky.

She set the hot pan on a pad between them and sat down. She served them both and began to eat. But he looked at her in slight confusion for a moment.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “I just...the family I lived with, the Tanners. They’re a religious family so they pray every time before they eat. But it’s fine.” He picked  
up his fork and tucked into the chicken with relish.

“So do you eat just about anything?”

“Well, if there was anything in my past life I refused to eat,” he said with his mouth slightly full, “I wouldn’t remember it.”

Grace smiled.

“I suppose it’s not really funny, but you can laugh. But this is great food. Where’d you learn to cook like this?”

Grace shrugged. “Nowhere. I just figured out what tastes good and how to prepare it right.”

“Well, you’ve done an excellent job. I really don’t know how you could have made this better. But then again I couldn’t tell you because I’m not a cook.”

“Well, I know what could have made this dinner better.”

“What?”

“Candles. The main lights off and candles on the table. Just the two of us, maybe music playing in the background.”

“How would that have made it better?”

“Well...it would have made the setting a little more...romantic.” She smiled at him. He had his metal hand resting on the table next to his plate, and she reached across for it. He  
didn’t have much feeling in his metal arm, but he could still feel the pressure of her hand squeezing his.

He smiled back. “Don’t worry. This is plenty romantic for me.”

He ate all of his chicken and even finished the portion that Grace hadn’t wanted. Then he asked if he could at least help with the dishes. She couldn’t say no. She put away the vegetables in a container and put them in the fridge. But when she went to the sink to wash her dish she couldn’t get over the feeling she got from standing next to him--standing next to the person she loved and that she had unknowingly waited so long to be with.

“When did you learn to wash dishes? Did your family in Arizona teach you?” She was trying to make conversation to distract herself.

“Well...yes. But it came pretty easily.”

After they were done with the dishes, he asked if he could use her shower. She didn’t have any men’s soap or shampoo he could use, but he said he didn’t care. Just a rinse was all he needed. He left his jacket hanging on the back of a chair in the kitchen table. She got on the computer while he was bathing but she really couldn’t engage with anything she saw on Facebook or Twitter at the moment. It was like the world had ended. A new world had started for her, one in which the old one didn’t make sense. 

It was so nice to use the shower, he felt. He hadn’t showered in weeks--months, even. He wasn’t exactly keeping track. He went ahead and borrowed one of her combs--it was easier to un-tangle his hair when it was wet. And looking in the mirror he felt better about himself: even without soap, just letting the hot water get rid of the dirt and the grime made a huge improvement. 

He came out just as he had left, wearing his jeans and his plaid shirt, but he was carrying his shoes and socks and his glove in his right hand. 

“How was the shower, handsome?”

“It was great. I’ve forgotten how much I liked hot showers.”

He sat down on the couch to put his shoes and socks back on.

“Are you going somewhere?” 

“No.”

She turned around in her office chair to look at him.

“So what are we going to do?”

“What, as a couple?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve gotten a few suggestions. But I thought I’d leave it up to you. I’ve never been in a relationship before.”

“Not even in the nineteen-forties?”

He laughed. “I wouldn’t remember if I had. But I’ve heard it said that back in the day I was quite the ladies’ man. Too wild to settle down.”

“Woooo,” said Grace. “I should’ve asked sooner.” 

“You’re all right. So anyway. It’s...hard to explain what I want. I mean, I want something. I look at you and I know you’re just the person to be with.”

“So what do you want?”

“Well,” he got up, crossed the room in two strides, and raised her up by the hand. “I want to do everything.”

“Everything?”

“Yes. I want to...experience life, I guess is the way you could put it. I want to see things, do things. Visit museums, go on walks, go for drives, go stargazing, go out to dinner,  
watch movies. I mean, there’s plenty of this sort of thing I could do on my own, but they’re a lot more meaningful when you have someone to do them with--someone to share them with.” He leaned his head down closer to hers. “And you know, I’d love to do it with you. We can stay home in the evenings and make out all we like, but we’d never really get to know each other that way.” He leaned back. “How about it?”

“Okay. Sounds great,” she said. “But how about living arrangements?”

“Well...I haven’t got that part figured out yet. What would you suggest?”

“How long are you going to be around?”

“As long as you love me.”

“And how long do you think that will be?”

He kissed her forehead. “A long time. I would like a place of my own, sooner or later. Somewhere close by. I don’t know if I’d be able to afford a nice apartment like this one.”

“Well, we’ll work on that,” she said, nodding him reassurance. “I’m not exactly set up to have an extra person living with me. You can stay here until you find your own place. Do  
you mind sharing the bed or would you be okay with the couch?”

“I’m perfectly fine with the couch. And I don’t need pillows or blankets or anything.”

“No, I’ll get you some. I’ll get you whatever you need.”

“You don’t have to do any of this. Spend time with me, sure, but feed me and shelter me, no--”

“Just let me help you. If nothing else. And I won’t make you do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“Okay.”

She wrapped herself around him and laid her head gently on his chest. She had her hair in a ponytail now but he was perfectly fine with patting her head.

“I suppose I can take you shopping sometime, here in the next few days,” she said, looking up at him. “I’m getting paid on Friday. Saturday I usually don’t have work. I’ll just buy you a few basic things.”

“Sounds great.”

She hugged him again. “I love you.”

“I do too.”

He turned aside and draped his metal arm over her shoulder. “Come on, let’s sit down.”

They walked over to the couch and sat. She leaned to one side and lifted her legs onto his lap. “Do you mind?”

“I’ll let you know. So what do you like to do for fun?”

Grace shrugged. “I go to bars sometimes, on weekends. Drink a little. I try not to go too crazy, though. I’ve tried making friends here but they’re no fun. All my close friends are back in Denver. Did your adopted family teach you not to drink?”

“Oh, no, alcohol is like water to me. And I’m a genetically-engineered super-soldier so I can’t get drunk, ever.”

“You ever tried?”

“I haven’t had the chance. But some of the guys I ran around with in Arizona, I was their designated driver some of the time. I still drank all I wanted and I could get them all  
safely home.”

“Well, looks like you’ve got some more designated driving to do,” she said.

“But seriously, though, you don’t have any friends down here?”

“No. Not anyone I’m close to yet. I just moved here two months ago.”

“Well, you should get better acquainted.”

“But I thought you didn’t like going out in public.”

“Well, find some girl friends and have a night out. I like being alone sometimes. As long as there’s someone to come back to.” He picked up her hand and held it. She really liked  
that, he could tell from the look on her face. “What else do you do?”

“Well, I’m still fairly new to the neighborhood. So I go on walks at the park. Walk to the grocery store. Take myself shopping. Sit around the house. Mope.”

“That’s gotta change.”

“Oh, it will. I think you were the reason I was moping.” She swung her legs off him and then leaned forward to kiss him. Once they got started, they kept going for several  
minutes. They were soon lying down on the couch together. 

“It’s so nice that you can talk back to me now.”

“What, did I never do that?”

“Not this much.”

They kissed some more. He really enjoyed it.

“How about stargazing?” he asked as she kissed his neck and cheek.

“Huh?”

“Would you like to go stargazing sometime?”

She leaned back to look into his face and brushed his hair away. “Your eyes have stars in them. I’m stargazing now.”

“Okay, don’t get started on that romantic crap.”

“Too late.”

She could be as crazy about him as she wanted, he thought. 

She leaned on him facing forwards, keeping his arms wrapped around her waist. He leaned onto her shoulder and felt as though he could have lain there forever.

“Wait,” she said, straightening up.

“What?” 

She sat up.

“So what about Steve Rogers?”

“What about him?”

“Have you talked to him?”

“No.”

“He’s your friend.”

“Was my friend, maybe,” he replied. “All I know is...I knew him. Somehow. But that was in a time before Hydra ever hurt me. And I can’t get myself to remember it. I’m not the person he thinks I am.”

“Bucky, he misses you. You know that. You can’t just keep wandering around forever without letting him know where you are.”

“I don’t remember him--”

“Even if you don’t remember him, then, you should at least try to get in touch. It wouldn’t hurt you.” 

“Would it?”

“Does it bother you so much, that he wants to find you and reconnect with you?”

“As a matter of fact, it does. I saved his life once. Shouldn’t that be enough for him?”

“No, it’s not. Because you were part of his life. Are part of it.” 

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Grace. I don’t know if I can.”

“You will,” she said, taking his hand in her own. “I’ll help you. I’ll contact him--phone number, email, Facebook, whatever way you want. All you have to do is tell him how you feel. Tell him that you want to live your own life and that you’re doing just fine on your own. If he’s truly your friend, he’ll understand. And he’ll leave you alone.”

“You sure?” he asked her. 

“Yes. It’s better for everyone when people actually talk about their feelings. It’s a proven fact.”

“Well, you just don’t know Captain America. He’s determined...like it’s one of his superpowers or something. And everybody I know who knows him seems to think it’s a good idea to get us back together. Even the Tanners did. Their daughter Hillary, she made me promise I’d talk to him by Christmas. But I don’t see how that’s gonna happen.”

“Well, she gave you a deadline. So you have something to look forward to.”

“Something to dread.”

“No, this is good for you. Your friend Hillary--you were friends, right?”

“We were just friends, yeah. She was way too annoying for me to ever like in a romantic way.”

“I get it. But she had your best intrrest at heart. And I do too.”

He groaned.

“Do it for me, Bucky.”

“You’ve still got a lot of convincing to do, but I guess I’d rather hear it from you.”

Grace sighed. “I forgot how stubborn you are.”

“I forgot how stubborn you are, too. But that’s good. Then you’ll never give up on me. BUt we can go ahead and disagree on this.”

“If I don’t disagree with you at least every now and then you’ll think I’m too perfect.”

“You are too perfect.” 

He loved her and he wanted to say that to her over and over again but he knew she’d get tired of hearing it. So he just held her close for as long as he could. They talked quietly  
sometimes, almost whispering, and never more than one or two sentences at a time. And gradually they fell silent altogether. He noticed she was breathing regularly and softly--she was asleep. 

He got up as quietly as he could, moving her as little as possible. He went to her room and got out some blankets. He gave her one and kept the other for himself. He turned out the light and curled up on the floor.

He understood why she wanted him in bed with her. But he wasn’t ready for that. Not just yet.

He woke up the next morning feeling a little stiff from sleeping on the floor. Grace had already left--judging by the silence in the house, she was already at work.  
He got up and went to the sink for a drink of water. Then he saw a note on the fridge.

You idiot. I love you. Help yourself to anything! Meet me at the park at 5:10. :)

He slept on the couch for most of the day. It was really quite comfortable. But he went to meet her at the park at ten after five and he sat on one of the park benches to wait.  
Her car finally pulled up and she came out, dressed in a crisp beige-colored blazer and pencil skirt. She came around to the front of the bench and then leaned over and kissed him.

They went out for dinner that night, just chicken and mashed potatoes from KFC. It didn’t taste anything like Jo Tanner’s cooking but it was satisfying. Then afterward they went back to her apartment. Grace suggested they watch a movie together, and recommended “The Phantom of the Opera.” He’d heard of it but hadn’t seen it. She changed into sweatpants and a hoodie and made them an enormous bowl of popcorn to share with extra butter. 

He liked the movie. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about the story but the music was excellent. And he couldn’t tell if he related more to the Phantom or Christine--probably the Phantom.

The next evening after she’d gotten off work, they went for a walk in the park at twilight. He found himself humming one of the songs from the movie--which was unusual, because he never hummed, as much as he got music stuck in his head a lot of the time.

“What are you humming?” she asked him. 

“That one song from the move. ‘Say you love me…’”

“‘Ev’ry waking moment,’” she continued for him. “‘Turn my head with talk of summertime.’” 

They sang quietly together:

Say you’ll share with me one love, one lifetime.  
Anywhere you go, let me go too.  
Love me, that’s all I ask of you.

He looked down at her and she looked up at him. And they both knew that the song perfectly described their relationship--melody, lyrics, everything. It was their song.

 

On Saturday, as promised, Grace took him out to the nearest Walmart. She got him razors, deodorant, soap, shampoo, and even some clean clothes. 

“I’ll have to take you to Goodwill sometime,” she said. “They’ve got used clothes for cheap, and some of them you can get in really good condition.”

They stocked up on foods that he would like to eat and that they would both like to have for dinner. In the store he never strayed far from either her or the cart. He was always near her to help her pick an item off the top shelf or put something in the basket. And he kept an eye out for small items she was looking for.

They stopped by the electronics section. With her phone plan, she could add a second phone for a mere twenty dollars a month. He got a simple touchscreen, but he wasn’t too  
keen on using it for apps or internet--just to keep in touch. 

Saturday afternoon, she showed him Facebook. He knew what it was, but he wouldn’t create an account for himself. He didn’t even have an email, but he wasn’t going to sign up for that, either. She searched for Steve Rogers’ account. He only shared information on his timeline with his friends, and Grace wasn’t about to send him a friend request not even for Bucky’s sake. 

She was, however, curious about his “family” in Arizona. Jo and each of her children had accounts, Bucky knew, but Hillary was the most active. Hillary Morgan Tanner was about Grace’s age, give or take a year. She had a bachelor’s degree from Arizona State University and loved Harry Potter. And she also worked for S.H.I.E.L.D.

“That must’ve been interesting,” Grace commented.

“Yeah, fun times,” said Bucky nervously. 

Grace scrolled through Hillary’s photo collection, and Bucky pointed out the names of each of her family members--they were his family, too.

“Well, it doesn’t look like she’s posted any pictures of you,” said Grace.

“I know she has them,” said Bucky. “But she’d know better than to share them on the Internet.”

“Right. Unlike me.” She gave him a look.

“Oh no. Don’t even start.”

“Come on!” said Grace.

“I don’t take pictures.”

“But you’re so photogenic!” She grabbed him around the shoulder and tried to get him to hold still for a selfie, but he slipped downward until just his eyes were visible to the  
camera.

“Oh! Looks like I ruined your photo!”

“No you didn’t, it looks great!”

“Don’t you dare share that.”

“Oh, I won’t share it.”

“Good.”

“I’ll make it my cover photo. So EVERYONE will see it.”

“No, don’t do it!” But as displeased as he was with her, he just laughed about it.

“I’ll keep trying. I’ll see if there’s a way to make you cooperate.” 

Grace, however, did make one small change to her Facebook profile in that setting. Then she and Bucky settled down to watch “Les Miserables.” He didn’t like the violence and misery depicted in the film, but there were moments, he told her later, that he truly liked. And he was crying a little bit during the second act.

 

Hillary Tanner sat down to her computer to check her Facebook on Monday morning. She had the day off from work and thought she would start off by being unproductive. Nothing much was happening on her news feed. On a whim, she decided to stalk Grace Porter. 

Grace hardly used Facebook at all. And yet today, the top thing on her newsfeed was a relationship status update:

Grace Porter is in a relationship. <3

Marie Porter-Stevenson: Oooooh! Details! Details! Do tell me!

Margot Heeder: GUUUUUURRRRRRRRL!

Trischia Louise Danbury: Girl, is this who I THINK it is?

Grace Porter: Mom, I’ll PM you. Trischia, it is indeed! :D <3 I couldn’t be happier! txt me!

Hillary couldn’t believe it. 

“Mom?” she said.

Jo was wiping the counter. “Yes, dear?”

“Do you remember that girl that Bucky said he liked? Grace?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I was just glancing at her Facebook profile,” said Hillary, standing up and walking to the counter, “and it says she’s in a relationship. And I think she’s with him.”

“What makes you think that?” 

“I don’t know. The update is from Saturday. It doesn’t say who she’s with, and last I checked Bucky didn’t have a Facebook profile.”

“I thought you said Grace didn’t live in Denver anymore.”

“That’s right, she’s moved to Albuquerque. He must have tracked her down somehow. I’m not a hundred percent sure it’s him. She’s telling her friends and family to call her or  
text her about it. I think it’s him.”

“Well, wait and find out,” said Jo. She wiped her hands on the towel she’d been using and took it back to the sink.

Hillary and her mother went out shopping that day. It was the middle of September and she needed some new fall clothes. The entire time they were gone, however, she  
wondered. What if? What if? It HAS to be him, it’s got to be, she told herself.

She checked Grace’s timeline again in the afternoon. Nothing had changed. There weren’t any new comments on the relationship update.

It was really hard right then not to send Grace a message or a friend request. She logged off the computer in an air of frustration. 

Her flight back to D.C. wasn’t until the following afternoon. So first thing on Tuesday morning she checked again. At the top of Grace’s timeline was a picture of someone she knew very well. He was hiding his face behind his hands, and one of those hands had a glove over it. But he looked like he was enjoying himself. 

FINALLY! I managed to get a good picture of him. LOL.

“MOM! COME LOOK!” 

“What, what?” said Jo, coming to the living room quickly. But when she saw the picture, she broke into a laugh.

“Our Bucky has found his girl. Wonderful.”

There was a small album of photos entitled “My wonderful boyfriend.” There was one of him similar to the featured photo above, except he was peeking out an eye through one of the gloved fingers. 

“He said he’d only let me take pictures of him if I didn’t show too much of his face--fair enough,” read a caption on another picture. He was standing heinously close to the  
camera and the way his eyebrows were up he was grinning. The photos, most of them, had been taken in a park somewhere. 

“Bae doesn’t like getting his picture taken,” said another caption. This picture was of him covering the camera partly with his face just visible over his fingers. 

Hillary had to laugh really loud at that one. “Posting them on Facebook--nah, he won’t cooperate. But get him to text selfies to your phone, girl. He’ll satisfy ya.” 

There was one of them holding hands and leaning their faces together--it was sweet and romantic and everything that Hillary had ever hoped for him to have.

Grace had updated her cover photo to a picture of him holding her with his arms around her waist and leaning his face into her hair. Her profile photo was a picture of them kissing. 

“I love this man so much!” she declared on her profile photo.

When Hillary finally got off the computer, she was in an exultant mood. She jumped and sashayed and pumped her fist in the air. She went outside to check the mailbox, humming to herself. She was really not able to keep herself from smiling. 

Her mother drove her to the airport. “Walking on Sunshine” was playing on the radio and Hillary turned the volume way up.

She texted Steve Rogers when she got to D.C. that night.

Hey Steve! GUESS WHAT? Bucky is in Albuquerque and he’s hooked up with Grace Porter! :D :D :D

Steve sent her a reply. 

That’s great. I’m in Thailand and last I checked I was single. 

Maybe Steve would have preferred to not be bothered. Oh well.

But Hillary didn’t let that bother her. Steve would see to it when he had the chance. In the meantime, she checked back to Grace’s Facebook regularly. Grace hadn’t been very active on Facebook before this point, but every few days she would post a new status--”Spending quality time with Bae tonight” or “I’m so blessed to have such a wonderful boyfriend!” or something in that vein. She would even post photos, usually of herself with some trace of Bucky in the background--a hand or a shoulder or an eye. Hillary’s favorite photo was of Bucky kissing Grace on the cheek as she took a selfie. When anyone asked her who her boyfriend was, she would give them the name Jason Retniw.

 

“I used to hate the rain. But when you’ve got a good pair of shoes, an umbrella, and someone you love beside you, what’s there to hate?”

“Well, it’s cold and it makes you wet,” said Grace, watching the cloud that her breath made in the air.

“I already knew that,” said Bucky. “The wet, well, you can’t really fix that, I’ve learned. But if you’ve got someone else with you, then you can stay as warm as you like.”

He swung the umbrella down to his side and let the rain fall on both of them. Then he started kissing her. They were both drenched within minutes but Grace wasn’t complaining. 

They walked back to her apartment with the umbrella down. Grace sneezed a couple times. Bucky grabbed a blanket to wrap around both of them while they snuggled on the couch.

They had been together for two weeks. They were both extremely happy. She had eventually decided to let him help with the cooking--he didn’t do it so much because he liked to cook but because he liked to help and to feel included and useful. And he wanted to be doing something good.

She used to hate his shoulder-length hair but now she couldn’t keep her hands out of it any more than he could keep his out of hers. 

He still had nightmares. Every night. He didn’t tell her about them. But some nights she would wake up to the sound of his crying from the living room. She’d go over to the couch and hold him and stay with him until he fell asleep again. 

He didn’t complain about having to sleep on the couch, but she noticed that he was getting a little bit antsy. He would go around the neighborhood on walks all day while she was at work but not really do anything else. 

One Saturday afternoon she came home from an unknown errand.

“Bucky, I’ve found you a job.”

“Where at?”

“Goodwill.”

“All right.”

“Grab your wallet, let’s go.”

They didn’t stop to get in her car.

“Aren’t we going to drive there?”

“It’s close enough to walk.”

Just a few blocks away from where Grace lived was a shopping center with a Goodwill store in the middle section. She took him inside and to the back. There was an older woman sitting at a desk in an office: she had spiky gray hair and wore black. She looked up eagerly when she saw Grace enter. 

“Back already?” she said excitedly. “And is this the young man you told me about?”

“Yes it is,” said Grace. She stepped aside to present Bucky. The woman got up from behind the desk to shake hands with him.

“I’m Louise Norman.”

“Pleasure. I’m Jason Retniw.”

“Good to meet you. Have a seat.”

Grace and Bucky pulled up the two chairs in front of Louise’s desk.

“So tell me, what kind of a job are you looking for, Jason?”

“Just anything,” he said. “I need something to do with my time. I just arrived in town a few weeks ago and I’m staying with Grace for right now. But I’d like to be able to have a  
place of my own. And some money, too, so I can support myself.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” said Louise. “What kind of skills do you got? Grace told me about you already, but I’d like to hear it from you.”

“Oh,” he said. “Well, I’m...pretty strong. I can lift...a lot. A hundred pounds, maybe several times that.”

“Okay,” said Louise. She pulled out a clipboard and took notes on a form on it, putting a pair of glasses on her nose. 

“I’m not really comfortable around lots of people. I could probably work in the back--a warehouse area, if you have one. I also used to live in an auto repair shop in Arizona. I would do the cleaning after hours, take out the trash and change the water tank. I’m good with those sorts of things.”

“Indeed, indeed,” Louise hummed. “Well, we can start you out in receiving and in the warehouse. How does that sound?”

“Do you have an opening there?”

“We’re always hiring, son. The guys in the back are really nice, and they’ll love to work with ya.”

Grace patted him on the shoulder and he smiled sheepishly.

Louise turned around to a filing cabinet behind her and pulled out a blank form for him to fill out. He got out his wallet and the fake ID cards. Grace didn’t know if they were still valid but they would work just in case. Grace helped him to fill out the form, suggesting a fake Date of Birth and other bits of information. She also let him put her bank account information for direct payment, and she got a check out of her purse and voided it. Louise took the forms of ID and scanned them. 

“Looks great,” said Louise happily. “You can start tomorrow at eight. Does that work?”

“That sounds excellent,” he said. All three of them stood up and Bucky shook hands with her again.

He took Grace by the hand as they walked out of the door and squeezed it. Grace laughed.

“You’re the best,” he said to her.

“Anything for you, baby.”

 

He started work the next day. His only uniform was a red apron, but Grace had gotten some long-sleeved shirts for him to wear, and he washed his glove so it was clean. His main duties were to take people’s donations as they arrived in the back and then sort out the items. His coworkers were Jose, Bill, and Taylor. 

Jose and Taylor asked what his story was, and Bucky told them that he was recovering from amnesia and trying to build a new life. They nodded their heads and went way. But Bill, a gray-haired man and the supervisor for the receiving crew, was intrigued. It wasn’t hard for him to notice that “Jason” could pick up the bigger boxes with ease. He was quieter than the others, and while he could make small talk just fine he didn’t talk about having a family or friends elsewhere or any sort of previous life experience beyond comparing notes with Taylor about living in the streets.

One day an accident occurred and Taylor was trapped under some fallen debris--Bucky lifted it off of him and he got away with minor injuries. Bill asked Bucky to stay after work that day. Bucky ended up telling him his story, as much as he’d been able to figure out--it was the first time he’d ever done it. He even showed Bill the metal arm. Bill had heard about Hydra and Captain America. He was sympathetic, but didn’t ask too many questions or press for details. He didn’t ask why Bucky hadn’t gone back to Captain America yet. He just listened. 

Grace was worried when Bucky hadn’t come home by seven thirty and she came by Goodwill to see if he was there. The front of the store was closed, but she went to the back and saw Bucky talking to Bill.

“So anyway, that’s where I’m at now,” he said to Bill. “It’s a long story, I know, and it doesn’t make a lot of sense.” 

“Hey, it’s okay, son,” said Bill. “You’ve had to put up with a lot, and you’ve done wonderfully. And your secrets are safe with me, of course.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“There you are,” said Grace, walking up to him.

“Did you miss me?”

“Have you been here this whole time?”

“Yes. I’m just fine.” She leaned down and they kissed.

“Is that your girl?” asked Bill.

“Yes. This is Grace.” He took her hand.

“How do you do?” said Grace.

“Doing fine, thanks. Bill Maxwell, at your service. That’s a fine young man you’ve got there. And Jason, if you ever need anything, you just let me know.”

“I will.” 

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go close up shop for tonight. Good evening Grace, ‘Jason.’” He winked and left the couple.

“What just happened?” Grace asked. 

“Nothing. I was just talking to him.”

“About what?”

“Well, he wanted to hear my life story, so I gave it to him. The honest version.” He pulled off his work apron.

“Really?” 

“Is that so significant?”

“Well, yes. A year ago all you would tell me is that someone made you forget the taste of popcorn. It just amazes me how far you’ve come.”

“And I’ve come so far because of you.”

She didn’t believe that was entirely true--it was Captain America who had gotten him to leave Hydra in the first place. But she didn’t argue with him. She just let him kiss her.

“I’m gonna go put this away, I’ll be right back,” he said, going back into the warehouse. 

He was back within two minutes. They walked home together in the gathering dusk. Bill was driving home on the same street they walked on and he honked and waved as he passed.

Bucky was kind of alarmed. “What’d he do that for?”

“He’s just being friendly,” Grace assured him.

In the evenings when he came home from work they would eat dinner together and then cuddle on the couch. Sometimes she would get on the computer and he would just cram himself onto her office chair next to her--it was kind of distracting, but she liked having him right next to her so she could stroke his hair or lean on his shoulder. When they felt up to it, she would unplug her laptop and they would watch movies on the couch. They watched ‘Sweeny Todd’ and ‘Grease’ and ‘West Side Story’, ‘Hairspray’ and ‘Momma Mia’ and then broke their musical streak by watching ‘The Fault in Our Stars’ and “A Walk to Remember.’ Romances gave way to chick flicks and he really liked chick flicks: the raunchier the better. His favorites were ‘Pitch Perfect’ and ‘27 Dresses.’ And when they watched movies they shared a bowl of buttery popcorn and they couldn’t touch each other for how greasy their fingers and lips were and they laughed.

When Bucky got his first paycheck from working at Goodwill, he took her on a date-- “a real date,” he said. They had dinner at home with candles on the table, seasoned salmon and a fresh salad that they made together. And then they both got dressed up and went out to a swing club to go dancing. Louise Norman had recommended the club when he’d asked her for date ideas. He spent a little bit of money on shoes, slacks, and a white collared shirt for the occasion. Grace, however, made a special trip to a department store downtown to get her dress, a gorgeous, sleeveless red silk with a sweetheart neckline and a skirt that really billowed out when she spun, perfect for dancing.

Of course he hadn’t had that much practice dancing in the last year, but he was still able to sweep her off her feet like it was yesterday they had gone to the county fair. She did accidentally pull his glove off his metal hand at one point in the evening, but he tucked it in his pocket.

“No one will notice,” he said, and he held her close to him and kissed her dramatically.

 

In the picture they took that night, they were silhouetted in the dark against the bright lights of the dance club in black and white--she filtered it herself. 

Hillary Tanner tagged Steve Rogers in the photo. All Steve could think was if he and Bucky went on a double date with Grace then he wouldn’t know who to ask. He closed the photo and got back to work. The Avengers were very busy these days.

But at least Bucky was happy. Steve was doing just fine Avenging. Was he happy? Well, he hoped so. 

 

“We should go on a date like that,” Hillary said as she talked into the computer.

“I know, and I’d love to,” said Mark Lawson through Skype. “When’s the next time you’re going to be in town, do you know?”

“Not for a certainty,” she answered. “I think Coulson was talking about letting me go home this weekend. Or next weekend. Sometime soon. It’s been a while.”

“Well, you should ask him about it. He was nice enough to let you off for our first date.”

“That’s true,” said Hillary, smiling at the memory. “And you know, Bucky did suggest once, when he lived with us, that you should take me dancing. For real. Not just a church dance. Go out to an actual club or something.”

“I bet he knew you’d like that,” said Mark. “Question, though, I’ve met Captain America, and I’ve met Bucky Barnes, but when do I get to meet Coulson? I mean, he’s not a superhero or anything, but he’s up there, and like, he’s your boss. If we’re dating he should at least get to know me, see what I’m about.”

“You don’t need to meet him.”

“But I’d like to.”

“Do you need me to bring him home with me sometime?”

“I guess. You know, I wonder what he was planning for Thanksgiving. Do you know what you’re doing for Thanksgiving yet?”

“No, I don’t. I’m probably going to find some friends to spend it with, or--”

“You could come to dinner with my folks,” said Hillary. “It’s only, like, a step above a Sunday dinner or a family party.”

“It’s a major holiday. That’s a pretty big step.”

“You wanna take it?”

“I’ll think about it,” said Mark. “To be honest, I’d love to. There’s a lot of things I’d love to do with you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“If only we could just spend more time together. In person, you know?”

Hillary laughed. “You say that every time we talk, Mark.”

“I know, but, you see why Bucky went and found Grace--so he could be with her. Physically.”

“Probably more than just physically, but yes. But, I’ll talk to Coulson, see if I can get off this weekend or next weekend for sure. And we’ll go to dinner and do some dancing. Fair  
enough?”

“Yes.” Mark scrunched his face like he wanted to say something. “You know, the guys at work, they’ve been asking who I’m calling and texting and Skyping all the time. They  
think you’re my girlfriend. But we haven’t said that we’re officially boyfriend and girlfriend yet. So I was wondering...if you want to keep this up--”

“Oh, we’re going to, Mark, there’s no question about it,” Hillary cut him off. “And I’ve been wondering for some time now, actually, if we were going to go beyond just saying  
we’re seeing each other and skyping.”

“Well, we have,” said Mark. “We don’t need to say anything about it. We just do it. But you were definitely holding hands with me at your parents’ house two weeks ago.”

“Under the table, yes.”

“Well, it still counts.”

“So do we want to go Facebook official?”

“Yes. We might as well.”

“Don’t be so bashful about it,” said Hillary. “But, are you coming out east to visit your folks anytime soon? Sooner than Christmas?”

“I don’t think so,” said Mark. “But I’d definitely like you to meet my family. Just to settle the score, since, what, I’ve been over to your parents’ place five times now since April?”

“Six,” said Hillary.

“I’ve lost track. But that doesn’t include the two times I went to hang out with your brother.”

“Fair enough. But you can have your family call me or whatever, take me to lunch if they come up here.”

“They go down to D.C. pretty often. I think they wouldn’t mind calling you up.”

“Okay. And I’ll have to introduce you to Coulson sometime.”

“That’ll work. Well, it’s getting late.”

“Late for you, maybe. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents are technically always supposed to be on-call. I just get in a bad habit of staying up.”

“Well, you should break that.”

“Break that habit!” she said, shaking her fist.

Mark laughed and they said goodnight.

 

When Bucky had saved up a little more money, he found a place of his own to live. It was a cheap motel a block away from the donation center. He kept his own food there and would go home to sleep there most nights, but he was still with Grace in the afternoons and evenings after work.

“Do you know what I’m gonna do next?” he told her one evening when he was sitting on the floor, looking up at her while she was on the computer.

“What?”

“I’m going to apply to a mechanic’s school,” he said. “Do you know of any good programs for that around here?”

“We could look,” she said. “And I’m sure the career placement at your work can help you out with that. You could ask them.”

“I think I will,” said Bucky.

Grace did a quick internet search for him and they talked over results. He also asked Louise and Bill about it the next day. Grace started letting him use her computer in the evenings to do his own research. He found a program that he liked and started the application process. 

Meanwhile, Grace had taken his advice to start going out and making friends. She asked one of her coworkers out to lunch one day, three weeks after he’d arrived. Soon there was a group of them going out together on their lunch breaks at least twice a week. And Grace was starting to think about her own future as well. She was making a lot of money with her job and she didn’t know how to spend it--most of it sat idle in her bank. Well, one thing she could do, one of her coworkers suggested, was go back to school. So she started looking into PhD programs in social work. But the future, to her, was an idle fancy. For now, she had love. 

 

In upstate New York, October came, bringing autumn in all of its glory.

Rhodey, alias War Machine, had the nicest apartment of any of the new Avengers. It was a luxury condo on the edge of Corinth with marble countertops and a balcony overlooking the farmland that crisscrossed the valley. He lived there alone, but more and more often between missions the other Avengers came over to hang out.

A week before Halloween, they all came over to Rhodey’s place for hot chocolate and the view of the mist hanging over the farmland. Steve in particular liked the view. It reminded him of what he was fighting for--not that he could ever have such a happy, settled life for himself, but he worked so that others could.

Wanda had come over wearing her pink silk pajamas and Natasha was wearing sweats. Steve and Sam came dressed casually, while Vision was in his suit and cape. Rhodey was wearing a fuzzy purple bathrobe and slippers. 

“Rhodes, you sure you don’t want me to take a picture of that and send it to Stark?” asked Natasha.

“Romanoff, I will thank you not to. I will pay you not to, if it came to that.”

“How much?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Depends on what you’d offer me.”

Rhodey looked at Steve. “Hey, Cap, do you know what works as an easy bribe for Romanoff here?”

Steve sipped his chocolate and shrugged. “Romanoff doesn’t take bribes.”

“She likes cookies,” Sam said innocently. “Chocolate chip’s her favorite.”

“It is not!” said Natasha.

“How do you know this, Sam?” Steve asked, smiling.

“Natasha, we should make cookies,” said Wanda.

Natasha sighed. “I’m really craving chocolate chip cookies right now, as a matter of fact. Laura Barton’s got this really great recipe she’s shared with me, actually.”

“And does Clint like her cookies too?” asked Steve. “How come he never brought us any?”

“Steve, you know the answer to that,” said Natasha.

Vision sipped his hot chocolate. “I’m not sure how well I like this particular mixture. Most hot chocolate mixes come off rather flat to me, actually. Maybe it’s just because I’m  
made of metal, partly. Oh well. But some freshly baked cookies would not be amiss at this moment.”

“Well, most hot chocolate mixes don’t have much flavor in ‘em,” said Rhodey. “But that’s why you add milk and brown sugar and spices.”

“But that only makes it more fattening,” said Vision.

“Well, if you’d like to be a connoisseur of hot chocolate mixes, then be my guest,” said Natasha.

“He can do that. I don’t got time to be taste-testing hot chocolate all day,” said Sam.

“Well, then maybe you should get a life,” said Natasha.

“I got a life, Romanoff,” said Sam. “It’s called being an Avenger.”

Natasha toasted him.

Rhodey opened his screen door and went to the balcony. Sam stepped out with him.

“Say Steve, has Hillary Tanner sent you any more pictures from that Grace girl?” asked Natasha.

“Yes, she sends me one about once a week. Well, she doesn’t really send them to me, she just tags me in the post.”

“Hm, I wonder if this girl knows who Bucky really is.”

“Of course she does,” said Steve. “I don’t think she would be dating him otherwise. I don’t think he would do that Not after what he’s been through, anyway. And I’d rather not  
date someone I didn’t really know. ”

“Newsflash, Rogers: I already knew that about you.” 

Wanda, who was listening, laughed.

Steve sighed. 

“You know, you might as well just send Grace a friend request and save her the trouble. And it’s only a matter of time before Bucky gets his own Facebook.”

“I can’t see him doing that. But no, I’m not gonna send her a friend request. I haven’t got time to be stalking Bucky on social media.”

“And this from the guy who set up an extra room in his apartment for a guy who’s never going to show up?” 

“The Avengers take the priority,” said Steve. He leaned against the counter. “Hydra has rebuilt since Sokovia, and they’re coming back up just as fast as we take them down. We can’t let them get ahead. And besides, Bucky doesn’t want me anywhere near him. I’m not gonna...I’m not gonna make him.”

Natasha was disgusted with him, but didn’t say anything.

“I think that is wise, Captain, to give your friend his space,” said Vision.

“Steve, you can’t avoid him forever,” said Wanda. “If you really want to see him again, make time to do it. You know where he is. What holds you back?”

It was Steve’s own disappointment. “If he wants me to see him, he’ll let me know about it.”

“So what do you got going today?” asked Natasha.

“Just, stuff at headquarters, paperwork I gotta take care of. I’m meeting with Hill at eleven to talk about the S.H.I.E.L.D. intel from Mexico.”

“Sounds like an important project. Want me to help you?”

“If you want in, sure.” 

Steve went out to the balcony to talk to Sam and Rhodey. Natasha stepped out of the room to answer a text, leaving Vision and Wanda alone.

“Miss Maximoff?”

“Mm-hm?”

“Would you care to go for a walk with me this afternoon? I have no other plans, and it seems like you don’t have any, either.” 

“Oh, sure, that would be fun.”

 

Wanda and Vision met up in the park in central Corinth that afternoon. It was a cool, crisp sort of day. And there were so many colorful leaves heaped in piles on the lawn and strewn an inch deep over the walking paths. Wanda loved kicking the leaves into the air with her boots and crunching them. And there was a huge leaf pile that someone had raked off to one side. She had seen children in a neighborhood in the town jumping into leaf piles earlier in the week and she’d been wanting to try it. So she ran and with a “wheeeee!” of delight jumped into the big pile. She rolled over and sat up, laughing.

“You know someone spent hours raking that?” said Vision.

Wanda leaned back. “Oh well. We can pile it back together.” Vision helped her out of the leaf pile. Her hair and clothes were covered with leaves but she didn’t shake it out just yet. With their combined powers, they had the leaf pile mostly put back how it was and left. She really liked moving the leaves around with her powers, though--the way they spun around like they did when the wind blew them along the ground and then for some reason the noise they made, the very light crunching, was just delightful and it made her smile. They continued walking, and Wanda continued crunching the leaves on the path and kicking them out in front of her to watch them fall.

“You find this satisfying?” Vision asked her as he walked alongside her. 

“Yes! Of course!” she shouted as she got carried away and went running ahead of him.

He walked slowly along the ground while she waited for him to catch up. He nodded hello to a couple sitting on a bench nearby. The local townspeople were accustomed to seeing the android around as well as the other Avengers, and they were polite to each other.

Wanda tucked her hands into her jacket pockets. “They don’t have a lot of these kinds of trees on Sokovia, what are they called again?” asked Wanda.

“Deducious.”

“Deducious. Yes. That is a word I think I have not heard before. And I’m not sure there’s a word for it in another language. But in Sokovia all we have are mountains and pine  
trees. We don’t even have many of those--well, we have the forest around the castle and surrounding the city but in the city itself--there’s not much. Is not a very pretty place.”

“Oh, I think Sokovia’s a rather lovely country,” said Vision. “Such spectacular mountains and breathtaking vistas. And the people from there are wonderful, too.”

“Oh, please,” Wanda giggled.

He did not comment further, and they fell silent, listening to the sounds of their footsteps rustling through the leaves.

She gave a soft sigh.

“What is it?”

“I miss Pietro, sometimes,” she said. “I wish he was here to see this. He would have loved it.”

“And he would have loved the fact that you were so happy right now.”

“Yes. Yes,” said Wanda. She took a deep breath. “I love it here. It’s so...peaceful. Maybe he wouldn’t have liked it. He always liked being in the middle of things, being in the  
action. He was more of a city person. But the last few months, since moving here, are the longest I’ve ever been out in the country I think I’ve been one all along without ever  
knowing it.”

Vision smiled. “A country mouse and a city mouse. There’s a story like that, that gets told sometimes. Were you and your brother really opposites?”

“In temperament, mostly. We agreed on things and on what needed to be done...just, how and when to do them, was different.” She looked up at Vision. “Do you think Steve is  
wise, leaving his friend alone?”

“As far as the Avengers are concerned, I think the Captain is more concerned about us working together,” said Vision. “I suppose he hopes that his friend can take care of  
himself.”

“I guess so,” said Wanda. “He takes it much for granted, though, I think.” She looked up ahead on the path. Then she smiled.

“What?” asked Vision.

“I have an idea,” she said. She ran up ahead of him.

“What is it?”

“I want to try something!” said Wanda. She started blowing around the leaves with her powers, lifting them up and tossing them over her like a cloud. And then she let go and spun herself around while the glorious red and orange and brown and yellow rained down on her.

 

Grace wanted to try something similar with Bucky, and as she threw a pile of leaves into the air above their heads he picked her up and spun her and kissed her.

They had been together for nearly two months now. She was starting to wonder if either of them were going to lose interest, but so far he didn’t show any sign of it and she just wanted to keep going. But he had gotten accepted to an auto mechanic school under the name “Jason Retniw.” He was expecting to start after the Christmas holidays. They were both prospering in their respective jobs in the meantime. 

She didn’t really know how life could have gotten any better than this.

And he had a normal life--as much of a normal life as he could wish for. And he had Grace.

That Saturday night, they borrowed a truck belonging to a friend of hers and went for a drive up to the mountains to go stargazing. They brought a pile of warm blankets and  
pillows and built themselves a nest in the pickup. The size and the brightness of the stars in the countryside amazed him, and he laid back with his eyes wide open while she curled up next to him and eventually dozed off.

Naturally, there were periods when they conversed together rapidly about everything under the sun. And sometimes they would get into a disagreement and raise their voices just slightly, but he always avoided yelling at her over nothing and she would back down in a minute. It was fun to disagree, they decided, but they wouldn’t argue. If they had an issue, they would talk it out.

But being together, Bucky felt, didn’t require two people to be talking to each other every single minute. They just needed to be together and to enjoy each other’s presence. And Grace was just fine with that. So often she would cuddle next to him while he sat and did nothing except reflect on the good life that he had. Or he would cuddle next to her while she worked on her laptop or read a book. Sometimes when one was on the computer the other would lean their arm around and hang on their shoulder.

Grace and “Jason” were known as the kissiest couple in their neighborhood, if such a category existed. They were often seen together in public, at the store or on the sidewalk or in the park, holding hands and walking close together. They would often kiss passionately in some corner for minutes at a time. Most of the annoyed neighbors thought of them as “that one couple”--every community, it seems, has one just like them. 

The Sunday afternoon before Halloween they were in the park together as usual. They had the park all to themselves--except for someone who was watching them from a distance, from a white car parked next to the curb.

The person was on the phone while she was watching the happy couple. “Rumlow, this is Sneld,” she said. “I’ve found our target. He’s got a girlfriend, however. They’re together constantly.”

But Grace and Bucky had no idea they were being watched. The white car was off in the distance behind them, blocked from view by the trees.

“So Halloween is on Saturday,” said Bucky.

“Yes,” said Grace.

“Do we want to make any plans for this?”

“Plans? Like go out in public?”

“Yeah. Let’s go to a Halloween party. Your friend Phillipa was having a costume party Saturday night. We could go to that.”

“It’s been years since I’ve dressed up for Halloween,” said Grace. “And since when do you think that’s a good idea?”

“Well, if I’m all dressed up, then nobody will know who I am,” said Bucky. “Come on, what do you want to be?”

“No, Bucky!”

“Yes, Grace!”

Grace laughed: that was his nice way of pressuring her into doing something he wanted, usually going on an expensive or elaborate date. “Oh, all right,” she said. “But, I haven’t  
dressed up in years.”

“It’ll be fun! We’ll do something as a couple.”

“We’ll look stupid.”

“We can look stupid together. I’ll go…I’ll go….hm, I’ve got an idea,” he said, looking at her.

“What?”

“I’ll be the Phantom of the Opera,” he said. “And you can be Christine.”

“Bucky, the phantom is a psycho. He’s not like you. You can be Raul.”

“Nobody knows who that is. Nobody cares who he is. It’s always Christine and Phantom, Christine and Phantom. No, I’m the Phantom.”

“No, don’t.”

Bucky took her hands in his and drew her close to him. “Grace. If the Phantom of the Opera is a psycho, then who am I? I am the Winter Soldier. I am ten times the murderous  
villain the Phantom ever was.”

“You’re not a murderer.”

“And you’re not an opera singer.” They kissed.

 

Grace met him at the thrift store on Tuesday to go shopping for costumes. He found an oversized dress shirt with a frilly collar and sleeves, and in the used costume rack was a cape with a nasty foam collar. She went through several racks of dresses until she found the perfect thing: a retired prom dress with layers of frills and ruffles on it, worn edges and soiled spots all over. He got a mask from the dollar store. She had a friend who loaned her an ancient sabre. 

On Saturday evening she spent about an hour curling her hair--she never curled her hair like this. She had to use a ton of hairspray and styling gel to get it right. But Bucky was really pleased with it.

“You should do your hair like that more often,” he told her. “It looks good.”

“Don’t make me. It took me two hours to do this. We’re running late for the party already.”

“Nonsense, we’ve got half an hour.”

She took pictures of him in his costume. He had no shame posing for her camera when his face was in a mask. She took some selfies of her hair and face and then pictures of  
them both together. And they would get more at the party. The top of her dress was covered with bulky frills but she put a jacket on anyway, and they were off.

The Phantom and Christine were the toast of Phillipa’s party. The Phantom stayed in the corner and drank beer from a solo cup while Grace went around and socialized. He let people take his picture--and a lot of people did. He was charming and charismatic and sociable: he had a life that he could actually talk about now. Grace got a lot of compliments on her dress as well as her boyfriend’s costume. She eventually grabbed a beer of her own and went and crashed in the corner with Bucky. But then he told her to get up again when one of Grace’s work friends asked for their picture and invited them to come talk in their circle. Bucky ended up doing most of the talking--Grace had quite a bit to drink.

“But at least this time I’m happy drunk and not sad drunk,” Grace hiccuped. Her listeners laughed with her.

There was a guy standing with the group named Quentin who had talked to Bucky earlier. Quentin was wearing long black robes and had a wooden wand in his hand, a lightning  
bolt painted on his forehead, and a stuffed snowy owl on his shoulder.

“What did you say your costume was again, Quentin?” asked Bucky.

“I’m Harry Potter!” he said loudly in a fake British accent.

“Oh, okay, and who’s that?”

“Never heard of Harry Potter?” said Phillipa. “The Boy Who Lived?”

“You must be a Muggle!” exclaimed one of Grace’s friends.

“I have no idea what that means but yes, thank you, that is correct,” said Bucky.

Everyone laughed.

“Baby, we should watch Harry Potter sometime,” said Grace.

“What is it? Is it a book? A movie?”

“It was a book but then they turned it into a movie--seven movies,” said Grace wobbily. “We should watch it. Have a marathon. Next weekend.”

“Okay, we’ll do that.” He leaned down and kissed her.

“Do you enjoy snogging her, Jason?” asked another of Grace’s friends.

There was something else he wanted to say to Quentin.

“That’s a cute owl, by the way.”

“Thank you. Her name is Hedwig,” said Quentin, moving his shoulder to show off the owl. 

“Hedwig, I’ll have to remember that.” 

Bucky ended up driving Grace home. She was still tipsy from the party when they arrived, so he took her for a quick walk around the block while they were still in costume. He sang “All I Ask of You” softly to her. 

 

In Corinth, New York, the Avengers and their staff were having a bash in the lounge of Streamwood Apartments. Well, most of the Avengers.

“Hey, Wanda, Natasha,” Maria Hill said as she walked up to the drink table, her hula skirt swishing. “Where’s Cap? I haven’t seen him all night.” She spoke up loudly so she could be heard over the loud music.

“Cap’s at his apartment passing out candy to the kids,” Natasha answered, adjusting her witch’s hat. “Wilson’s with him.”

“Is he in costume?”

“He’s wearing his uniform. That’s enough of a costume for him.”

“Well, it’s too bad. This party’s great. I’m gonna go talk to Helen.” Maria wandered away.

Wanda was helping Natasha serve the drinks. She had found a white wig and a cheap dress and was Elsa from “Frozen.” Off on the dance floor, she could see Rhodey in a Zorro mask and hat. Vision was wearing one of those fake glasses with a mustache and rubber nose--not that it did much to his appearance, but he wanted to keep in the spirit of Halloween.

She felt she would much rather have been with Steve and Sam. It was cold outside but at least it was quieter.

 

He was with her for most of the day following, which was a Sunday. She put up their photos from the party on Facebook. 

She noticed that someone named Hillary Tanner was tagging Steve Rogers in her photos of Bucky. But she felt that it wasn’t her place to tell Bucky that. 

They went for a long walk through the crisp autumn leaves, holding hands or walking with his arm around hers. 

“So after Halloween comes Thanksgiving, right?” he asked her when they stopped for a moment on a park bench to cuddle.

“Yes, it does,” she said contentedly. 

“So were you already planning anything?”

“Huh?” she sat up.

“I mean, were you planning to do anything for Thanksgiving before I got here? I’ve been wondering.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t thought that far ahead in September. “I always go back to my family for Christmas,” she said. “But Thanksgiving I just do whatever. I mean, when I lived in  
Denver I’d go to my family, but this year I felt it didn’t matter so much. I’d rather not have to make that trip too often.”

“Well, why not?”

“Well, gas money.” She felt that was kind of a lame excuse, and judging by the look on his face he thought the same.

“But what did you want to do for Thanksgiving?” she asked him.

“I dunno,” he said. “I suppose...just be with you, that was all I wanted. If that’s okay.”

“Well, of course,” she said, taking him by the hand. “You always spend holidays with the people you love. But is there someone in particular you wanted to see for Thanksgiving?”

“Well...it might cost you a little extra gas money,” he said, “but if you’re feeling up to it, we could go to Mesa. To the Tanners. They said I was always welcome there.”

“You’re welcome there,” she said. “But me? The Tanners are...different people. Way different.”

“They took me in. Trust me, they’ll love you. They really will. When I lived with them, I told them that all I wanted was to go back to you.”

“Is that all they heard about me?”

“They’ll be happy to have you,” he insisted. “They really will.”

“Well, we’ll see what we can do about it,” said Grace. “But, it sounds like they’re family to you. So maybe we could find a hotel room to stay in while we’re down there and then go to their place for dinner. Sounds fair?”

“Fair enough.”

“Oh, and, suppose while you’re down there...do you want to keep your promise to Hillary?”

“She said for Christmas, not Thanksgiving!”

“Well, yes, I know, but I’m sure Steve would love to hear from you at any time.” She smiled at Bucky. “We could make a Skype call, while we’re down there. It doesn’t have to be long. But you can at least let him know where you are and that you’re okay. And you’ll go from there. You might get to see him at Christmas, you might not. It’s just...taking the first step. Can you do that?”

“If you’ll be there with me, when I do it.”

“I will.” They clasped hands for a moment, and then they snuggled together and kissed tenderly.

 

Sunday night he was also at her apartment, and he slept there on the couch. The next morning he left for work before she did. They kissed goodbye on the front doorstep, and she watched him walk away down the leaf-strewn sidewalk. He glanced over his shoulder once to look at her.

She finished her daily assignments at work early and came home around two-thirty. She went for a walk by herself, just around the block. Then she got on the computer to check Facebook and respond to some of the comments on her Halloween photos. Finished with this, Grace went to the bathroom. Afterward, she decided to go to the kitchen for a glass of water. She noticed that the blinds over the kitchen window were open. It perturbed her a little to see this, since she didn’t remember pulling them open earlier. 

Grace pulled the blinds shut and went to the living room. She then stopped. Someone else was in there.

“Well, well,” said a deep, female voice. The speaker stood in front of the living room window, no more than a shadow in the dark interior. “We meet at last.”

“Who are you?” Grace asked.

“No one important,” said the voice. She stepped forward. Grace could see that the woman was about her own age, with dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. She wore a black tank top and black military fatigues and boots. She was round-shouldered but had a long, gaunt face. 

“So you’re the beauty who tamed the beast?” said the speaker, smiling at Grace. “You, who have succeeded where others have failed--including his precious Hillary.”

“Who are you?” Grace repeated. 

“I am no one,” said the speaker. “Your boyfriend would know what that’s like. People like us can never...belong.”

At this last word, colored shapes came rushing out of the woman’s body, and she was controlling some of their direction and movement and size with her hands. 

“Get out of here,” said Grace.

“What are you going to do? Call the police? Or call your boyfriend perhaps?” 

The dark shapes closed in around Grace, squeezing every inch of her tightly.

 

He had an average day at work. A lot of people who dropped off donations around the back were depositing their used Halloween costumes, so he put them into storage for next year. He and Grace had texted during lunch but he hadn’t heard from her since. She was probably busy working.

He walked home savoring the colors of the fall leaves and the blue sky streaked with wispy silver clouds. He couldn’t get enough of it, really. He would have to take Grace for a walk so he could savor it some more, and share it with her.

He arrived at the apartment. Grace’s car was parked out front, as usual. He opened the door and walked right in.

The first thing he heard was laughter--deep, cruel laughter.

He turned to face the living room. He saw Grace, wrapped in thick, black cords that looked like smoke, leaning against the wall like a fly in a spider’s web. Someone was standing  
just behind her with an arm over Grace’s mouth, a woman with dark hair and dark eyes. Grace made a noise like a sob but he could barely hear it.

“Welcome home,” said the other woman.

“Who are you? How did you get in here?”

“Did you have a nice day at work?” said the woman tauntingly.

He trembled. Grace was obviously in pain from whatever was binding her. She looked like she would have cried if she could. The thought that someone was hurting Grace made  
him so angry that he could hardly move.

“You let go of her,” he said. “Whatever’s binding her, you release her from it. Now.”

“Why don’t you say please?” the woman hissed.

“Did Hydra send you?”

“It’s that easy to guess,” said the woman. “I see you’ve been doing well enough on your own. A job. An upcoming semester in trade school. A place of your own--” She broke off and leaned back onto Grace, stroking the side of Grace’s head with her fingertip. “--and a girlfriend, who loves you and accepts you for who you are.” She looked back at him and smiled even more menacingly. But then her smile faded. She let go of Grace and left her leaning against the wall. The stranger stepped forward. “It’s nice to see that you can take care of yourself. But you weren’t meant to be out on your own. You were never meant to belong.”

That statement burned him. He stepped forward and swung a punch at the woman’s face. She only had to step aside. His fist didn’t even hit solid air. It hit a screen of golden light that had appeared out of nowhere but that shattered like glass before fading into nothing. 

He turned to face the woman.

“What are you?”

“Only one of your comrades in arms. But there are many of us. All with different abilities. Some of us have names. They call me the Spectre. Are you impressed?”

He threw a punch and a kick at the woman. She sidestepped him and sent a fist to his stomach. He doubled over against the wall, clutching himself in pain. There were few, very few, who could hurt him that badly.

“Yes, you’ve gotten a job for yourself, and a life,” she said to him. “But you don’t have a future. Who would ever want to hire a guy who has a metal arm to fix their car or help them across the street, or sign a bank mortgage, or even be their friend?”

Grace shouted something muffled to him. He stood up straight and ran across the room to her side. But he wasn’t even halfway across when he felt something grip his legs. He tripped, his head nearly bumping the coffee table. 

There were two giant snakes wrapped around his calves. He tried to touch one of them, but its head sprang to life and snapped at him. The snakes were shapes that sprang from the Spectre’s hands. He gripped the snake by the neck and pulled. It vanished, but then two more came to him and snapped at his face. He knew they were illusions, but they felt very real, not like real snakes but like cloth balloons or stuffed animals, but even lighter and less substantial than these. He could push his body through him and they would still move. He ran up to the woman controlling them and tried to punch her. She raised one of the snakes and hit him across the side of the head--it felt like a bludgeon. He fell, gripping his ringing skull.

“I’m disappointed in you,” she said. “You, the Asset. You were the best. I am one of Hydra’s best these days. But I was never like you. And they always remind me.”

“What do you want with me?”

“It’s time for you to come home,” she said. “You have endured the pain of living a real life for too long. Don’t you agree?” She stepped closer to him. He backed away. She sent more illusions at him, not snakes but the heads of dragons that hissed and flicked forked tongues and beaks that snapped at him, and then one that sent fire and smoke into his eyes, making him blink.

“Don’t you miss it? Not having to feel. Not having to think for yourself. Didn’t we treat you well, at Hydra? We gave you everything. You were the greatest super-soldier that ever lived, greater than even Captain America.”

He rubbed his eyes and saw her clearly. He jumped up at her, trying to grab her throat and punch her. But then there was a noise and a red light, and the illusion forced him away. He landed sideways on the couch and rolled off of it.

“I see how it is,” said the Spectre. “You don’t want me to talk about your best friend, either.”

“SHUT UP!” he yelled at her. He gripped her shoulders with his arms and they tussled onto the ground. They fought, punching and kicking and rolling. He knocked her against the ceiling, and hoping she had been knocked out he ran across the room to Grace. She was still leaning against the far wall wrapped in the black bindings. He pulled at the bonds, trying to pry them off from her. They would stretch but they didn’t come off of her. She looked like she had been trying to sleep, but when she felt him moving she looked up at him. The look in her eyes was sad and resigned, but then wide with terror. He turned around and saw the Spectre raising her arms wide. There were vines coming out of her hands now, the color of green poison. Several of them wrapped around his arms, but he yanked and they snapped off of him.

“Release her, now!” he shouted.

“I’m just making her more comfortable.” The Spectre threw a vine above her head, tossing it like a lasso. Releasing it, it flew past him towards Grace. Before he knew what was happening, it had wrapped around Grace entirely. She started to make coughing noises. The vine wrapped around her throat and her eyes began to bulge.

“NOOOO!” He ran to her side. He tried to yank the vine off of Grace. It only seemed to be choking her more.

Then a vine grabbed him around his chest, followed by a thick black binding. The black binding pulled him away from Grace and pinned his arms to his sides. He found himself turned around to face the Spectre.

“Turn and face me you coward!” she spat. 

He didn’t need more urging. He ran forward to fight her. The Spectre spread her hands apart slowly and created images of flames that danced around her. He told himself that they were just illusions. He charged right through them. He felt nothing--at first. Then the longer he wrestled with the false flames, whenever he touched them they tingled his skin until he felt a rash growing on his right hand. His metal arm was starting to feel warm. Apparently even the Spectre hadn’t thought of that--when she gripped it she suddenly let go and cried out in pain. He fell against the floor as the fire disappeared. 

The touch seemed to have made her angry. She growled at him like an animal. Slashing her right arm in the air in front of her, she filled the room with water. It felt like air, where the surface of the water should have been, but it looked like clear water, but just like real water it was heavy and he had to wade through it to get to her. She made the water recede but then sent waves of it rolling over his head and around him, buffeting him left and right. But he landed on his feet.

“You’ve gotta do better than that.”

“Don’t tempt me.” She lowered her hands, and then the ground started to tremble. The apartment building around them shook. He heard the sound of dishes breaking in the kitchen. A glass ornament on Grace’s bookshelf fell over and smashed, sending glass flying across the living room. 

Grace was still lying on the ground, straining faintly against the illusionary bindings. 

He walked forward, holding his ground in spite of the shaking earth. She twisted her arms vertically and the entire world spun. He fell onto his back. He heard Grace yelling in pain. 

He stood up again. He ran forward and fought with the Spectre hand-to-hand, trying to grab her by the neck, twist her arms and legs, make her yell, make her hurt in whatever way he could. But she wedged himself apart from him. Standing apart from him at last, she conjured several shapes in the air around her head--a knife, a dagger, a saw, a curved sword, an axe.

She threw all of them at him. It was like wrestling with several small, angry animals at once. They hurt him but they didn’t drew blood--they only bruised him. He wrenched the axe out of the air and then threw it--imaginary as it was, it spun through the air and landed in the wall above the Spectre’s head, and then faded into nothing.

“I’m impressed,” she said.

“Don’t be. Let go of Grace. Now.”

“I’m not letting her go. You don’t deserve her.”

“You MONSTER!” He ran up to the woman and started punching her. She released herself with an explosive illusion and then she ran into the corner.

“It takes one to know one,” she said, panting. “And I should say you’re more of the monster than me. I’ve only been working for Hydra for over a year now. But you...you were with them for over seventy years. You committed atrocities that I could only dream of. You’re ten times the monster I ever could be. And yet...you were always loved. Steve could never let go of the fact that you were his friend, not even when he had to fight you. Not even when the whole world was at stake. Me? I got my powers in a freak tornado. I didn’t ask for them either.” Her voice was no longer smooth and taunting, but hard and angry. “And yet nobody wanted me. Nobody loved me. Nobody wanted me to be their friend or their family anymore. Not after they saw what I could do. And all because of something bad that happened to me when I didn’t want it to. I’m just like you. And I’ve got nobody in the world to own me. But you, why are you the one who is still loved? You, who murdered so many? Huh? Why do people love you, when all I ever asked for was someone to accept me?”

Before he could even think of responding to her, she attacked. She used lightning, red but white-hot, electrocuting him, reminding him painfully, terribly, of the torture he had received from Hydra. But it only lasted for a minute. While he was lying on the floor, his head reeling from the shock and the flashing light, she turned to Grace.  
He couldn’t clearly see what was happening. The Spectre levitated the banged-up coffee table and threw it to one side, hitting the bookcase and rattling the objects that remained on it. She raised her hands into the air, elbows bent, and clenched her fingers together. And then he heard a strangled sound, a whimper of pain--Grace was in pain.  
And then…

“Bu..ck...yyy,” she called to him, his name somewhere between a croak and scream.

“NOOOOOOOO!” He couldn’t see what he was doing, he was so blinded by agony. He got up and bolted across the room at record speed, pushing the Spectre aside to the floor. But the phantom vine around Grace’s body was pulling away from her and squeezing tighter and tighter. It snaked around her throat and went taut. Her eyes bulged and a terrible scream came out of her mouth until she could no longer breathe. 

He saw what it was doing to Grace. He turned to the Spectre. He kicked her all over every inch of her body. She screamed, but not as loudly as Grace had been screaming a minute before. Finally the Spectre crumpled into a heap, smashed against the side of the bookcase like a spider. The illusions around Grace faded--the poison green vine, the black binding, all of it. Her body went limp and she collapsed to the floor.

He kneeled on the ground next to her. “Grace. Grace. Can you hear me?”

Her head lifted a little. She groaned. She looked up at him. There was a lot of fear in her eyes, a lot of pain--but a lot of love as well.

“Bucky. I love you.”

“I won’t leave you,” he said. He scooped her up in his arms and cradled her. But then he felt something like a whip whooshing around his face and over Grace. Then from behind her neck the vine reappeared...and pulled. Grace sat up, her entire body taut, trying to pull away the thing that was choking her. 

From behind them, the Spectre yanked at the green thread of death. She was bleeding and bruised all over her face and body, but she sat up with a smile on her face. Bucky dropped Grace and ran to attack the Spectre. He jumped and dragged her across the floor--

And then the vine snapped.

He looked around. Grace was lying still. 

“I think she’s dead,” said the Spectre in a nasty, snarling voice.

“NO!” He whirled around and punched the Spectre’s face. The Spectre kicked him in the stomach and stood up.

“I think when you jumped on me that pulled the rope tight enough to cut off her circulation. It was my job to kill her. Oh well. What’s one more victim to add to your list?”

He gave a horrible yell and tackled the Spectre onto the floor. They rolled as he tried to pin her to the ground so he could finish her. Finally, she stopped struggling, too injured or too exhausted to keep up.

They looked at each other, breathing heavily. He pressed his arms around her throat and began to choke her. She didn’t fight back. 

“Go ahead,” said the Spectre. “Now’s...your chance.”

For a few seconds, that was the only thing he could think of doing. But then he realized that he couldn’t. 

Grace would never have wanted it. 

He had left the past behind. It could stay there.

For now.

He released her throat from his grip and got off from her.

The Spectre took a strangled gulp of air and coughed. She spent several seconds catching her breath. 

He also took his, and he watched her. 

She looked up at him, finally.

“Go,” he said to her. “Before I change my mind.”

The Spectre didn’t answer him. She took a few more gulps of air, then stood, leaning on her knees. Then she stood up straight and turned around. 

He followed her into the kitchen. She used her power to pull up the blinds and open the window. She removed the screen and lowered it onto the ground outside. She was trembling as she worked, glancing over her shoulder.

The Spectre ran to the window, vaulted onto the counter, and climbed out of the window. There was a bush behind the kitchen window that she had to negotiate, and he heard her muttering in pain as she went. But she extracted herself soon enough, and she began running through the parking lot between the other buildings in the complex.  
He returned to the living room. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe she wasn’t dead.

But Grace was motionless. Her eyes were open but rolled grotesquely. He held his good hand to her heart, her veins and her wrist, trying to get a pulse. He put his finger over her nose and mouth. 

Everything had stopped.

“No...no...no!” He collapsed onto her chest and sobbed. He picked her up and cradled her in his arms, rocking her, holding her as close as he could while she was still warm.

He could not bring himself to leave her.

But he couldn’t ask her to stay. Not when she had already left.

And without Grace, there was nothing left.

He kissed her one last time.

His jacket and baseball cap were on the floor by the couch where he had left them last night. He put them on and then went to the kitchen. 

In one of the drawers, Grace kept some stationary and pens. He pulled out the pink notepad and scribbled two messages--one for Hydra, the other for S.H.I.E.L.D. 

He left the note on the table. And then he climbed up to the window, not as quickly as the Spectre had done. 

When he lifted his leg to put it out the window, he decided to look back one more time. He said farewell to the life he had known--to the normal life that had almost been his.  
And then he left.

 

S.H.I.E.L.D. didn’t have an office in Albuquerque. Its only office in the state of New Mexico was in Santa Fe, an hour north up the interstate. Considering the supernatural events that regularly occurred in New Mexico the region was woefully understaffed.

But as luck would have it, Director Coulson and his two aides, Mitch Sorensen and Hillary Tanner, were in Santa Fe that evening. S.H.I.E.L.D.’s office there was investigating a recent bank scam that possibly implicated Hydra. And Coulson had not been there more than three hours when the phone rang. The local director Troy Graft answered it.

“Hello. Yes, this is S.H.I.E.L.D….Yes, Officer.” There was a long pause as he listened to the to the other end of the phone. “I see. Well, as a matter of fact the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. is here right now. Maybe you could ask him.” He turned to Coulson, who had been chatting with Hillary and Mitch while he was on the phone. “Sir, it’s the chief of police in Albuquerque. He says there’s been an unusual murder there.”

Coulson picked up the phone without hesitation. “Hello, this is Coulson….No, what about it?....You think so? How far is it to where you are from Santa Fe?...Okay, we’ll be right there. Yes, thank you. Goodbye.”

Hillary didn’t like the look on Coulson’s face when he hung up. 

Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

“What’s the matter, boss?” asked Mitch.

“The police chief there says the murderer may have been some kind of an Enhanced. But something else may be going on there.” He looked at Hillary.

“Like what?”

“Let’s just get going. Graft, I don’t know how long this is going to take. We may not be back.”

“That’s okay, Director. You do what you have to,” Graft nodded.

Hillary, Coulson, and Mitch walked quickly out of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s office suite.

“Do they have a name for the victim?” asked Hillary.

“He didn’t give me any details,” said Coulson. “He just said it was a grisly murder--some kind of a strangulation. But there was no rope. No hands either.”

Hillary glanced at Mitch. Mitch didn’t know what to make of it. But there was a sinking feeling in her stomach that Hillary was trying to ignore.

They got in the car. Coulson pulled through a fast food restaurant. They ordered a burger and a tall diet coke apiece and sped south on Interstate 25.

It was rush hour, so it was a good hour and a half drive between the two cities. They didn’t talk much. Mitch tried asking Coulson for more details about the case, but Coulson only responded, “We’ll wait and see when we get there.”

Hillary hoped against hope that this had nothing to do with Bucky. What were the odds, she reassured herself. As far as she knew he and Grace were still together--though it had been a few days since she had checked Facebook. 

They got off the Interstate onto a freeway that would around the north side of downtown Albuquerque. Hillary was not bothered by this at all.

Then they got off the freeway into a wide street lined with businesses. They could still be going anywhere.

Then Coulson took a left into a residential neighborhood. Her stomach fluttered. She took a deep breath. They were just passing through.

They finally turned a corner at a very nice and expensive-looking apartment complex. It was twilight and the decorative pink stones were shaded purple. There were police vehicles parked up and down the street with their lights flashing up a storm. She saw a paramedic van and an ambulance but no medical personnel running around, no injured people. Just policemen. The lawn in front of the building was blocked with caution tape. The only civilians in sight were gathered around the street, watching anxiously with their arms folded. Police and other investigators were walking in and out of one of the first-floor apartments.

As Coulson and his companions got out of the car, one of the policemen came running across the street towards them.

“Are you the guy from S.H.I.E.L.D.?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m Director Coulson,” Coulson replied, walking up to meet him and shaking hands.

“Officer Pendleton, Deputy Police Chief. I’m so glad you could make it.”

He let them across the street and they ducked under the caution tape.

“So what have we got here?”

“There was some kind of a struggle here. We believe that a third party was involved. The neighbors say that the victim had a boyfriend who was over here pretty frequently every day for the last two months. Unless he suddenly changed his mind about her, which I think is unlikely, the victim was caught in the crossfire and the suspect attacked the boyfriend. The neighbors said they heard screaming and shaking and all kinds of weird crap going on in the apartment. They forced entry and found the victim but nobody else home. The back window was wide open. And there’s a note on the table addressed two ways--one of the intended recipients is S.H.I.E.L.D. That was when I decided to call Taft up in Santa Fe.”

“You did good to call.”

“Excuse me, officer, who is the victim?” asked Hillary, trying to be heard over the noise of the emergency vehicles and personnel.

Pendleton turned around and looked at Hillary. “A young lady about your age, Agent. Come inside.”

They walked past an investigator carrying bags and equipment out of the apartment and stepped across the threshold.

The room was a disaster. The computer desk in the corner seemed all right, but the bookshelf on the far wall had been banged and knocked out of place, the paint scratched, the wood dented, the books pushed sideways onto the shelf. A few ornaments that had stood on the bookcase had been knocked off and broken to bits. The coffee table had been turned sideways and one of the legs had been broken, but the police had pushed it aside to access the body laying on the floor.

Hillary recognized the face.

“Oh my gosh. No.” She clasped her hands over her mouth.

“Is this…?” said Coulson.

“Grace,” breathed Mitch.

Hillary knelt on the ground. She was too stunned to even think. She knew that face...she had stalked this girl on Facebook. She was beautiful, but her beauty was marred by the sick paleness and stiffness of death, and an ugly discoloration around her neck like a choker where she had been strangled...by whom?

“Do you know this person?” asked Pendleton.

“I knew her boyfriend,” said Hillary in a strangled voice.

Coulson looked at Sanchez. “Have you seen any sign of her boyfriend?”

“No. Someone saw him come home from work right before the attack started. And she came home early from work, too.”

“So the attacker was waiting for him,” said Mitch.

“Who is her boyfriend?” asked Pendelton.

“The Winter Soldier. A former Hydra assassin. He ran away from them last year and I guess he’s been trying to live a new life...but I don’t like the looks of this.”

“Has anyone seen him?” asked Hillary. She stood up and looked Pendelton in the face. “Officer, has anyone seen him since the murder? He goes by Bucky Barnes, sometimes Jason Retniw. He has dark hair and blue eyes, just a little taller than I am...well, without heels. Please.”

Pendleton shook his head. “I’m sorry. We’re looking for him right now.”

“The note. You said someone left us a note?” Mitch spoke up.

“Yes, here in the kitchen,” said Pendleton, leading them away from the living room.

The note had an evidence marker next to it, but Pendleton said it had already been recorded. He passed it to Coulson. Coulson read it and gave it to Hillary.

To Hydra:

You will never take me back. And if you ever try to go through one of my loved ones ever again, your next assassin will not be so lucky.

TO SHIELD:

If you find this, tell Hillary Tanner that I will not be able to keep my promise to her. I am sorry but Hydra has made that impossible now. 

 

“No. No!” she moaned. She turned away to wipe the tears in her eyes. Tears for Grace. Tears for Bucky. Tears for everything that had just gone wrong. 

“Promise, what promise?” asked Coulson.

“I made him promise that he would spend next Christmas with Steve Rogers...or at least contact him by then. Don’t you know what this means, Coulson? He’s gone! He’s gone!”

Mitch threw his arms around Hillary and let him cry on his shoulder.

“Does Steve know about Grace?”

“Yes, yes,” Hillary gasped. “He knew...he knew Bucky was here…”

“He’s not here anymore,” said Mitch. “He wouldn’t have stuck around.”

“I still need you to try to find him, officer,” said Coulson. “Do you have a photo of him?”

“Yes. She posted tons of the dude on her Facebook….well, he was a little camera shy but I think we’ve got a good enough idea of his face. We’ll find him, don’t you worry.” 

Mitch rubbed Hillary’s back. “Hillary, I’m so sorry.”

“Who could have done this?” she asked.

“We’ll find out, Hillary,” said Coulson. “I’m going to call Steve and tell him what’s happened.”

“Steve who?” asked Pendleton.

“An old friend of Bucky’s.” Coulson pulled out his personal cell phone and dialed Steve.

 

It was late at night in Corinth, New York. Steve was at home alone in his apartment. 

“Are you serious?” he said to Coulson.

“Yes, I am,” said Coulson. “I’m very sorry, Cap. But I think whoever it was, they were working for Hydra, and they were trying to recapture Bucky. I don’t think they got him,  
though.”

“Usually whoever’s tried to recapture Bucky in the last year, they’ve sent a group. It amazes me that they would think just one person would be strong enough to get the Winter  
Soldier.”

“That’s a good point,” said Coulson. “It looked like one heck of a fight from here. The apartment’s still standing, but the living room is just trashed.”

“And Agent Tanner, is she with you?”

“Yes,” said Coulson. “She’s right here, on the living room couch.” 

“Put her on the phone, will you?”

“Yes.”

He handed the phone to Hillary--or more accurately shoved it at her.

“Hello?” Hillary answered.

“Hillary. Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound too good.”

“I’ve been better, I guess.”

“I’m so sorry. I know what this meant to you.”

“I know what this meant to you, too,” said Hillary. “And not just...you and Bucky, but...he loved her. So much. Why would somebody come in and…?”

“Hillary, just calm down. Get a glass of water as soon as you hand off the phone, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Listen, I know you were close to him last year.”

“Yes, I was. This girl was all he’d ever talk about. She was his whole world.”

“Hillary, it’s going to be okay. I need you to do me a favor.”

“Name it.”

“Just comfort the victim’s friends and family for me, okay? I’m sure whenever they find out they’re gonna be in a world of hurt, too. Do what you can for them. I have to go on an Avenging mission first thing tomorrow. I don’t know when I’ll be back. If I’m not back in time for the funeral, then go on my behalf. Tell the girl’s parents that I will personally come and visit them. All right?”

“If you say so.”

“Good. Just hang in there. All right? I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Okay.”

“You can hand the phone back to Coulson. I’m not hanging up yet.”

“Okay.”

“See ya.”

“Bye.”

Hillary handed the phone to Coulson and then went to the kitchen for a glass of water. Coulson wasn’t on the phone longer than a minute. And when he hung up, the coroner and his assistant were there to collect the body.

 

Wanda and Natasha had chosen that night to make cookies. They would bring them with them tomorrow to share with the team. The first batch was just coming out of the oven when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” said Wanda, scurrying to the door. She opened it. “Steve...what is the matter? You look sad. Come in.”

Steve came into the kitchen and sat down. 

“Cap, what’s happening?” asked Natasha.

Steve sighed. “Bucky’s girlfriend in New Mexico. She’s been murdered.”

Wanda clapped a hand to her mouth.

“Who killed her?” asked Natasha.

“Hydra did it. Coulson thinks they were trying to recapture him. She got caught in the crossfire...she may have been murdered by an enhanced. And...right now the police are trying to find him--”

“He won’t let them.”

“That’s right. He never would. He’s gone. And that’s it. I could’ve gone to see him any old time...and I’ve lost my chance.” He sank his head into his hands. 

“No,” said Wanda, running up to wrap her arms around Steve. “No, you musn’t be so hard on yourself. It is not your fault. Don’t let anyone say that.” She tousled Steve’s hair.  
“Would you like a cookie?” 

 

Hillary did her best to not cry any more while they were still at the crime scene. When they left, Coulson got them a hotel. When Hillary was alone in her room, she called her family to tell them what had happened. Her mother was crying too, before the call was over.

Coulson had said he would call Hillary as soon as the police found any trace of Bucky or of the murderer. But hours passed as she lay awake in bed and waited for that call to come, and finally she cried herself to sleep.

 

“I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million times,” Coulson declared loudly as he walked through the police headquarters with Mitch and Hillary in tow. “S.H.I.E.L.D. needs additional stations in Las Cruces and Albuquerque.”

“And don’t forget Datil and the Very Large Array,” added Mitch.

“Yes, indeed,” said Coulson, “and Puente Antigua, too, though aliens are the least of my worries at the moment.” He turned to his proteges. “This will have to do for today.  
Hillary, since you were so overly fond of Facebook stalking Miss Porter, you are more than welcome to go through her timeline through the last several months and see what kind of evidence we can come up with--possible connections to the murderer, possible ways she could have exposed Bucky to Hydra, that kind of thing. I want to know all of it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Mitchell, you will be filing the initial incident report on Miss Porter’s death. I will help you with that while we’re waiting for the autopsy to come in.”

“Yes, sir.”

A member of the police chief’s staff came forward to speak with them. “Sir, the victim’s family has been notified. Her mom and stepdad are driving down from Denver and will be  
here this evening.”

“Thank you, officer. I will speak with them personally.”

Hillary got to work on combing Grace’s Facebook. She hadn’t seen the Halloween photos. Grace and Bucky were so cute and romantic together, as the Phantom and Christine.  
Hillary’s favorite was of Bucky holding out the old sabre dramatically.

To think that twenty-four hours ago Grace had been alive and breathing.

There was a post from late September that Hillary hadn’t seen before.

My bae has a job at Goodwill! I’m so proud of him!

A quick internet search revealed that there was a Goodwill store close to Grace’s apartment. Hillary called the store. Louise Norman answered. Hillary broke the news to her about Grace’s death right away. Louise was terribly shocked. She immediately asked about the whereabouts of “Jason.” Hillary could only tell her that they were still looking for him. 

Louise agreed to come to the police station. She came that afternoon. She had nothing but good to say about Jason Retniw. She seemed like she was a normally very cheerful and pleasant person, but the news about Grace’s death and Bucky’s disappearance had dampened her considerably. As far as her background was concerned, she had no connections to Hydra.

Coulson ordered take-out sandwiches to be brought to the police station, and he and his two agents ate their meal in the break room. Hillary wolfed her sandwich down quickly and then glumly watched Coulson and Mitch finish eating.

Finally she started crying.

“What is it?” asked Coulson.

“Don’t you get it, it’s over!” she said.

“What’s over?” asked Mitch.

“Grace...Grace was everything to Bucky. She was his motivation. She was the reason he wanted to have a normal life. And now she’s dead. He’s gone and he won’t come back. She was the only reason he had to stay. He won’t be able to go on without her.”

She picked up one of the napkins that had come with their meal and wiped her face.

“He was making so much progress. And now it’s all gone. It’s all dead. Because she’s dead. He can’t be anything without her.”

“Do you know that for a fact?” said Coulson.

“No,” said Hillary. “It’s just what I’m afraid of. But after all he’s been through. Now losing her...a normal person would be able to carry on, but he couldn’t. This is exactly what  
he’d been afraid of. This was why he left Grace in the first place, at the homeless shelter. And this was why he didn’t want to stay with my family. He didn’t want anybody to get hurt by Hydra on account of him. And we won’t find him. Everything I’d hoped for him...everything I’d wanted for him...all gone, in an instant.” She blew her nose. “It’s just not fair.”

“Well, he may surprise you,” said Coulson, patting her hand. “Bucky Barnes is known to do that. He’s resilient. He’ll pull through.”

“The Bucky that Steve knew, maybe. But the Bucky I knew…” She collapsed on her arms and cried.

And it was at that moment that Mitch and Coulson understood why she was so upset: it was because Hillary was afraid that she had lost her friend.

The autopsy report came in that afternoon and they went to talk to the coroner. The cause of death was officially suffocation, but from what it was hard to say. Some object, not found in the room, had been wrapped around her neck, strangling her and leaving a very nasty bruise around her neck. She also had weird bruises all over her body--something large and strong had squeezed her entire body for several hours in the time prior to her death and also banged against the wall and the floor, like she was being thrown.

“The boyfriend didn’t come home until she had already been in this position for a few hours,” said the coroner, “so clearly he was not the one hurting her.”

“We’ve already established that the boyfriend is not the murderer,” said Coulson impatiently. “But what can you tell me about the murderer?”

“I don’t think I can tell you anything other than the fact that they must have possessed supernatural powers to rival the super-strength you say the boyfriend has.”

“Hm, whatever powers they were, they caused Bucky physical pain as well as Grace--while killing Grace,” said Coulson. “The police say the neighbors heard multiple people  
screaming. The entire building shook like there was an earthquake, and then there were unusual noises and lights. Powers similar to Wanda Maximoff’s...but even weirder. But whoever the murderer is, they got away, too. Otherwise we would have two dead bodies. Thank you for your time,” he said to the coroner.

Hillary was perplexed. Who or what could have powers even weirder than the Witch’s? 

They were walking away from the autopsy room when the answer hit Hillary. She stopped walking.

“Jamie.”

“Who? What?” said Coulson.

“Jamie Sneld.” She looked at Coulson. “You said to me last November, that no one had heard anything from Jamie since Finland in May. She was last known to be working for Hydra.”

“But how do we know it was her?” asked Coulson.

“We find evidence,” said Hillary.

“I’m sorry, who is this?” asked Mitch.

“Another one of my old S.H.I.E.L.D. school friends,” said Hillary. “Captain Rogers knows her, too.” 

That evening, Coulson and the two agents met with Grace’s mother and stepfather. They had met Bucky briefly during a Skype call--he had waved but refused to show his face. But Grace had said that he was a very nice person, a little troubled but kind. And she had loved him. She had loved him to the very end. Hillary told them Bucky’s backstory and about the months that Bucky had lived with her family. She told them that he had loved Grace in return--she knew that for a fact. And she also gave them the condolences of Bucky’s old friend Steve Rogers.

Grace’s body was sent back to Colorado, where she would be buried. The funeral was scheduled for the following week, and Coulson, Mitch, and Hillary were invited to attend. 

Over the next several days, Hillary worked overtime to get people to come talk to her and Coulson about Grace and Bucky. They interviewed Bucky’s coworkers from Goodwill. Bill had been granted the exceptional honor of hearing Bucky’s story from Bucky himself. And Bill thought highly of him. He had hoped that he would get to mentor Bucky and watch him build a new life for himself. But knowing what Bucky had been through, Bill said there was a reasonable chance that he would never come back. 

They interviewed Grace’s boss and coworkers from the Oliver and Paxton firm. Grace had been a little melancholy when she had moved down from Denver, but the moment Bucky had come into her life, it was like she became a different person. She was happy. They had met Bucky at the Halloween party--they knew him as the Phantom, of course. He just seemed like a fun, normal guy. He kept Grace from being a workaholic. He’d given her something to believe in.

One by one, they brought in the people who lived in the same apartment building as Grace. They gave more details about the weird side effects of the fight between the Winter Soldier and Grace’s murderer--the lights flashing, the screaming, the shaking. One had seen Bucky coming over to Grace’s apartment after work. But none of them had seen anyone who appeared to be the murderer.

Coulson took it up with the manager of the apartment complex. The manager sent an email to all of the residents, asking anyone if they had seen or heard anything unusual on the day of the murder. Someone from Building Ten came forward.

The person who had seen the murderer said they had been home alone in the afternoon when they saw someone walking across the parking lot towards the back of Building Five. The suspect was described as female, tall and rather large in the bust, wearing black boots and black fatigues and a leather jacket. She had dark hair in a ponytail. They showed her an old S.H.I.E.L.D. photo of Jamie Sneld, and the neighbor said that it was definitely the person she had seen. 

It was probably too late, at that point, to ask the police to start looking for the murderer, but Coulson went ahead and gave the description to the police.

Hillary leaned against the wall and sighed. So it had been Jamie. They had trained in hand-to-hand combat in S.H.I.E.L.D. school, and Hillary had seen Jamie’s powers up close.  
Rumor had it that Jamie had taken some kind of a drug to make her illusions more powerful, so powerful that they had physical substance to them.

“So it’s come full circle,” she said to Coulson offhandedly.

“How so?” 

“All four girls from that one apartment--Emily, Jamie, Kristie, and Sara. All of them were friends with Captain America. All of them had encounters with the Winter Soldier.” She held up her fingers to count off. “Emily met him at least three times--Sara met him at the mall in Minneapolis--Kristie ran into him in Denver--and now Jamie has murdered his girlfriend.” She shook her head.

“So Steve knew Jamie as well?”

“Yes. Not that they were close. But he still knew her. He’ll be disappointed.”

“Hey, he already knew she was working for Hydra. It won’t come as a surprise. It’ll just...add lemon juice to a papercut, I suppose.” 

 

So it had come full circle, but that apartment of girls had suffered a variety of fortunes since the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. Emily Bridger was missing in outer space and presumed dead. Sara Martin had been fired during Maria Hill’s brief stint as director. And now Jamie was an assassin working for Hydra. Kristie was the only one of those four roommates who was still working for S.H.I.E.L.D. Hillary called her to tell her that Grace had died and possibly been murdered by Jamie. Kristie was saddened but she didn’t really react that dramatically over the phone. 

Hillary went home to Mesa that weekend. Mark picked her up from the airport--Hillary had told him about the murder as well. Mark stayed over at Hillary’s house for several hours and just held her close. It had been a stressful--and needless to say painful--week at work.

After Mark had gone, Hillary got on to Facebook. After briefly checking her newsfeed, she scrolled through Kristie’s Facebook photos. The four roommates had taken an apartment photo together at the end of their S.H.I.E.L.D. training. To look at them smiling and laughing and unscarred was surreal. 

Emily Bridger had made a comment:

You girls are like the sisters I never had. I will miss you all so much!

Hillary let her head sink into her hand. 

How? 

Why?

She looked through Kristie’s other photos. Hillary, Steve, and Mark appeared in each of these often enough. So many good times...so many memories. And now some of them were tainted. 

She guessed that she had just taken it for granted that Jamie worked for Hydra now, like it was a career change or a minor job change. The Jamie she had known had been a good person.

The Jamie who had killed Grace Porter was quite different.

Hillary felt a sudden surge of anger. It was Hydra that had done this--Hydra that had corrupted Jamie, Hydra that had destroyed Bucky, Hydra that had killed Grace. She wanted nothing more than to destroy Hydra in whatever way she could, to make sure its evil was obliterated from the world forever.

She almost wanted to call Steve and ask if there were any openings with the Avengers.

But right before she could start crying again, the Facebook messenger opened up on her screen. It was Sara Martin.

Hi, Hillary! How’s it going?

Hillary paused, surprised. Sara had no idea what was going on. Of course it was classified S.H.I.E.L.D. information, but...Coulson would have allowed the exception. Jamie had been Sara’s roommate. And Sara had met Bucky at least once. Hillary didn’t know the details but they had been together long enough that Sara had bonded with him.

Hillary Morgan Tanner: Hi. I’m doing fine.

Sara Martin: Just fine?

Hillary Morgan Tanner: I suppose I should tell you. I’ve just come home from a murder investigation. The victim was a girl named Grace Porter. She was about our age. And she was in a relationship with Bucky Barnes.

Sara was a long minute in replying.

Sara Martin: Grace? THE Grace?

Hillary Morgan Tanner: You know of her?

Sara Martin: Yes, I’ve heard of her. Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry. Who did it?

Hillary Morgan Tanner: That’s the worst part. It was Jamie. On behalf of Hydra.

Sara didn’t reply for such a long time that Hillary thought she wasn’t going to.

Sara Martin: Are you sure?

Hillary Morgan Tanner: We have at least one witness who saw her. And the victim’s injuries can’t be explained otherwise--she used her powers to kill her.

Sara Martin: :’(

Hillary Morgan Tanner: I’ve been crying all week. Don’t you start.

Sara Martin: I won’t. Not yet. Does Kristie know?

Hillary Morgan Tanner: Yes. I told her.

Sara Martin: And this would have broken Emily’s heart. And Grace...oh my gosh. How old was she?

Hillary Morgan Tanner: Twenty-five. Not much older than either of us.

Sara Martin: Too young to die.

Hillary Morgan Tanner: If it’s not too much to ask, how do you know about Grace?

Sara Martin: Bucky told me. When we met up...it’s a lot to explain.

Hillary Morgan Tanner: I understand. Sara, I’m going to tell you something. Bucky Barnes lived with my family for four months.

Sara Martin: ??????????? ARE YOU SERIOUS?

Hillary Morgan Tanner: Yes. He came last November and left in April. And he told me about Grace. I stalked her on Facebook a little and I saw the pictures of them together. I’ll  
have to send you a link. But they were so happy together. I don’t blame Jamie. As much as I want to, I don’t. I blame Hydra.

Sara Martin: No. Jamie is working with Hydra of her own free will. It was her choice. We have to accept that now. But if you say Bucky lived with your family, then I think I have nothing to hide.

Hilllary Morgan Tanner: Oh really?

Sara Martin: Yes, but...the fact remains that it’s just a lot to explain. And it’s hard to understand or believe, even if you work for SHIELD. We weren’t together at just the mall. We went to a park afterwards. And he wanted me to help him...find his memories, you could say. A lot of what came afterward involves time travel and space travel...princesses and magic and memory spells. But he talked to me, about his problems. And he told me about Grace. I guess I’m happy that he did get to go back to her. It’s just a terrible way to end.

Hillary Morgan Tanner: I know. Bucky and I became good friends. I can’t imagine what he’s feeling right now. But he disappeared right after the murder. The police in Albuquerque are still looking for him. But it’s hopeless.

Sara Martin: :’( Oh, Hillary. I’m so sorry. I wish I was there right now so I could give you a big hug. Did you tell Steve about this?

Hillary Morgan Tanner: Yes. Steve knew about Grace. Coulson called him right after she’d been killed. He knew Bucky was in Albuquerque the entire time. I don’t know if he  
would have wanted to see Steve, if he’d come around.

Sara Martin: Are there any more traces of Hydra in Albuquerque?

Hillary Morgan Tanner: We’re still trying to find that out. But we think that Hydra was not operating locally. SHIELD and the Avengers have taken out their known bases. But places still keep popping up.

Sara Martin: Cut off one head, two more take its place, right?

Hillary Morgan Tanner: Exactly. And you can’t always tell where those two heads are going to show up.

Sara Martin: Well, you just keep fighting, then. How are things with you? Your personal life? I see you’re in a relationship.

Hillary Morgan Tanner: Yes, and it’s going well :) I see you’re in one too.

Sara Martin: Yep! And we’re talking about getting married.

Hillary Morgan Tanner: OH MY GOODNESS! YES! CONGRATULATIONS! :D

Sara Martin: Don’t congratulate me yet. 

Hillary Morgan Tanner: Have you gone ring shopping yet?

Sara Martin: No but we’re talking about doing that pretty soon. :) 

It was a relief, in spite of the sad things that had happened over the last few days, to talk about love and marriage and normal things. Yes, things hadn’t worked out for Grace and Bucky, but there were still plenty of good things in the world to be grateful for. 

 

From the Denver Sun, November 6, 20__.

In Memoriam:

Grace Rochelle Porter, 25, of Mountain Heights, passed away on November 1 at the hands of a home intruder in her apartment in Albuquerque, NM. The events behind her death are still being investigated. Grace was born May 9, 1990, in Denver to Michael Robert Porter and Melissa Porter-Stevenson (nee Banks). Grace graduated salutatorian from Canyon Glen High School in 2009. She went to the University of Colorado, Denver and received a Bachelor’s Degree in Social Work in 20__ and a Masters in 20__. She was known from an early age for her desire to help other people and to reach out to the poor and needy. She volunteered for several years at the Arms of Mercy Community Outreach Center in Grove Park. She worked briefly at Standfer and Watson Family Law Practice before moving to New Mexico this past summer to continue working at a similar family law firm in Albuquerque. Since September, she had been dating a man named Jason Retniw, whom she met in Albuquerque, and her friends and family say they were very happy together. Grace is survived by her mother, her father, her stepfather Larry Stevenson, her step-siblings Matthew and Teresa Stevenson, and her paternal grandmother Julia Porter. Funeral Services will be held on Tuesday, November 10, at Mountain Heights Memorial at 3 p.m, preceded by a viewing from 1 p.m to 3 p.m. A graveside service will follow at 5 p.m. at Meadows Cemetery, where Grace will be interred. 

Grace had had about five hundred Facebook friends and seven hundred Twitter followers. They all came out of the woodwork over the next few days to show their support for Grace’s family and recruited hundreds more supporters in Albuquerque and Denver. They launched a GoFundMe campaign to pay for the funeral expenses and a burial plot, and the excess funds (which came to about a thousand dollars) were donated to the Arms of Mercy shelter.

Hillary, Mitch, and Coulson arrived in Denver on Monday night. They had a meeting with the Denver S.H.I.E.L.D office and reported on the investigation into Grace’s death. There was no sign of either Jamie Sneld or Bucky.

While Mitch and Coulson went to the hotel, Hillary spent the night at Kristie’s again. Hillary poured out her feelings to Kristie--her sadness over Grace’s death, her memories of the time she’d spent with Bucky earlier that year--and her fear that he would never be found.

“Don’t say that, Hillary,” said Kristie. “He’s going to come to his senses eventually. He just...needs some time to recover. You know him. You know he has it in him. He’ll come around. So just you watch. One of these days he’ll let Cap find him.”

Hillary hugged Kristie. “I wish I believed that.”

 

The next afternoon, after a lunch with Agent Orwin, they went to the Mountain Heights mortuary. It was a nice building with wood decoration on the walls and soft carpets. Grace was laid to rest in a coffin of dark brown wood embossed with gold. She was wearing a sleeveless dress, her hair was straightened, and her face and neck and arms were covered with makeup to hide the bruises. The viewing was held in a small room next to the mortuary chapel. Lining the wall were tables of pictures of Grace and personal mementoes.  
One picture that Hillary liked was of Grace at about five or six years old with huge front teeth and wearing an orange and black witch costume for Halloween.

At the very end of the table was a picture of her with Bucky, printed from her Facebook. He leaned in sideways on her face, squeezing in--or was it squeezing out--of the fame. It was the same soft, alluring smile that he had in the picture on the Tanner’s piano back in Mesa. And Hillary had seen that photo in old pictures of Bucky from the forties and earlier. As much as he had denied to Hillary that his past self was dead, in a lot of his mannerisms and subtle gestures it was still alive.

Or it had been, before last Tuesday. Hillary finally had to wrench herself from the picture, and she had to work to avoid looking at it as much as she had to avoid looking at the corpse.

There were flowers, too, vases on the table and wreaths posted on stands around the room and beside the coffin. Hillary read the tags from several of them. She found one that was from her family. Another she found had no name on the tag, but there was a card attached signed “S. Rogers”, and she thought she could read the signatures of the other Avengers on it as well.

Dozens of people turned out for the viewing. All of them were wearing black. There was Andrea Means and Mabel Grant from the homeless shelter. A handful of the shelter’s former patrons who had gone on to a better life came to pay their respects--one or two of them recognized Bucky’s picture. Grace’s old university professors and members of her grad school cohort turned up. And there were the usual extended family--aunts, uncles, cousins and so on. One or two of her ex-boyfriends from high school and college showed up but after spending a few minutes at the funeral and saying hello to Grace’s parents did not stay around for the funeral. Friends from high school appeared, remembering aloud how they had always thought Grace would go far in life and dismayed that it had been her who was murdered over her boyfriend. Nobody else really discussed the events surrounding Grace’s death--they didn’t understand what had happened.

Hillary was standing in the middle of the room trying to listen as Coulson made conversation with one of Grace’s old professors. Then she heard talking behind her.

“--the pianist says they won’t be able to make it. They had a family emergency,” said a woman, one of Grace’s aunts.

“Well, that’s just wrong, I thought we were the ones having a family emergency. So who do we get to play the piano?” asked the woman’s daughter, one of Grace’s cousins.

“Well, do you know anybody here?”

“No, Mom, I don’t know half of these people. And I wouldn’t know how to ask if any of them know how to play the piano. Do any of these people look like musicians to you?”

“So we’re going to play a recording of the song, is that it?”

“As tacky as it sounds to do that, yes--”

Hillary turned around and approached the two women. “Excuse me, but is there something I can help with?”

“Can you play the piano?” asked the cousin.

“Yes, I can.”

“How good are you?”

“I’m pretty good. I’ve been playing since I was six. I can play just about anything.”

“Can you read sheet music?” asked Grace’s aunt.

“Yes, I can,” Hillary nodded.

“Can you play this?” the cousin said, shoving some sheet music into Hillary’s hands. It was for Martina McBride’s “Concrete Angel.”

“Yeah, I can play this. I may need to practice a little--but we have a few minutes before the service starts, don’t we?”

But just then, Coulson asked Hillary to come over to him. Hillary excused herself. 

“We’re having a meeting in the next room over with some of Grace’s family and close friends. If you would care to join,” Coulson invited her.

“Yes,” said Hillary, nodding. In another viewing room, she, Mitch, Coulson, Kristie, and Agent Orwin gathered with Grace’s immediate and extended family as well as Andrea,  
Mabel, and Grace’s close friends Trischia and Margot.

“Everyone here?” Coulson asked. The people nodded. Mitch closed the door. “My name is Phil Coulson. I am the Director of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement,  
and Logistics division--you may know us as S.H.I.E.L.D. I was in Santa Fe, New Mexico, when S.H.I.E.L.D. was called to investigate Grace’s death. My associates and I spent most of the last week in Albuquerque trying to find out more about the murder. Grace was killed by a superhuman assassin working on behalf of a political organization known as Hydra. We do not know all of the reasons she died. She simply may have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. But beginning in September and up until the time of her death, Grace was in a relationship with a genetically engineered super soldier named James Barnes--known as “Bucky” to his associates. Up until last April, Barnes was an assassin for Hydra, but he left them and has since been seeking to live his own life. He was staying at the Arms of Mercy Community Action Center last year when he met Grace. The best we have been able to figure out is that Hydra was trying to recapture Barnes and attacked him and Grace to achieve this end. Barnes escaped, and we are unable to find him. And...that is the best I can offer you at this time. I am truly, terribly sorry about Grace’s death. She was a wonderful person, and by all accounts, her relationship brought Bucky a measure of happiness that he hadn’t known in a very long time.”

Trischia spoke up. “But what about the murderer? Have they been found yet?”

“Hydra is currently underground,” said Coulson. “We have identified the murderer, but she has not been seen since the murder took place either.”

“How do we know that her boyfriend didn’t hurt her, if he was one of them?” Grace’s stepbrother Matthew spoke up.

“As I said earlier, Bucky has not been in league with Hydra for the last year and a half. They have been trying to recapture him but with no success. Are there any further questions?”

No one said anything. Coulson nodded at Grace’s stepfather. Mr. Stevenson announced that it was time for the funeral services to begin. Most of them filed into the chapel with  
everyone else who had stayed after the viewing. 

Hillary passed by the viewing room again on her way to the chapel. She saw Grace’s mother crying as she touched her daughter’s forehead one more time. Then the funeral director closed the casket. Melissa Porter-Stevenson gave a howl of agony and collapsed into her husband’s arms. Her ex-husband also hugged her from behind. 

She had to pull herself away from the sight to keep up with the rest of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s envoys. By the time they had reached the mortuary chapel, it was standing room only. The group of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and their director lined up against the back wall. 

The casket, draped with flowers, was pushed into the room on a trolley, and everyone in the chapel fell silent. The funeral directors placed the casket directly in front of the  
podium at the front. The family took their seats in the empty chairs at the front of the room, and everyone else was seated.

Grace’s mother got up to the podium to speak and to welcome everyone to the service. As Melissa began to list the names of people and institutions who had helped to arrange  
the funeral, one of the mortuary workers entered the back of the room with a stack of chairs on a trolley. He quietly unstacked them for the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents to sit on. Coulson thanked him, and the man left as quietly as he had come. It was a little harder for Hillary to see, though, from behind all of the people dressed in black. She almost wished she’d remained standing.

It was quite different from any funeral that Hillary had ever been to. There were no prayers and no singing of hymns. There was no speech given about the family’s beliefs on life  
after death--all they could speak of was what had been, and how it was now gone. 

Grace’s father, Robert Porter, gave the eulogy.

“We know that not long after she moved to Albuquerque, Grace met a fellow who went by the name of Jason Retniw,” Porter said. “Jason was a homeless man that she had met in Denver, at the shelter where she worked. By all accounts they were in love with each other, and he’d come to find her. They were together right up until the day she died--perhaps even up until the very moment she died. And it was fitting, because here was a man that she had tried to help, and she’d given him her time and talents. And when she passed, she had given him her heart. I know that she Skype called Melissa and Larry at least once and they got to meet him that way. I never had the honor, but she told me that he was the best man she had ever dated. He was kind and smart and funny. He was down on his luck, but with her help he was starting to turn his life around and she was so happy for him. I truly regret, then, that he decided to leave after Grace was killed--so senselessly.” 

That was the most he said about Bucky. That was the most anyone said about Bucky at the entire service, as a matter of fact. Mr. Porter gave a few remarks about his favorite memories of “his little girl.” He wept openly as he spoke, and then he sat down.

Grace’s stepfather got up to speak next. He spoke of when he had first met Grace, after her parents’ divorce. He had always been able to tell how kind and sensitive she was. He said Grace had noticed that other children her age with blended families didn’t have as easy a time adjusting as she did. Mr. Stevenson said that Grace decided that she wanted to help people who were in those kinds of situations, and children especially. That was what he remembered about Grace the most, and that was what he would miss her the most for--her selflessness. He was so proud of Grace’s achievements in high school and college. What broke his heart the most was to think of the people she could have helped, the people who would have benefitted from her service had she lived. Nothing, he said, could ever make up for that loss. And then he sat down.

That feeling of burning anger towards Hydra returned in Hillary. Hydra was so determined to snuff out all the good in the world. Grace hadn’t been collateral damage, she had been as much of a target as Bucky.

Then Melissa Porter-Stevenson stood again. She had to dab her eyes with a handkerchief as she spoke. Grace was her only biological child. Grace had always been so strong and so supportive of her mother. And she had always wanted the best for her daughter. When she had divorced Grace’s father, she had wanted at first to raise Grace by herself, but she knew that Grace needed a father. So she had married Mr. Stevenson and gained a younger brother and sister for Grace in the process. And when she saw how well the three children were getting on together, and how Grace eventually warmed up to her stepfather, she knew she had done the right thing. Grace had always been driven to help others, she added, especially those who didn’t have what she had--a home, a family, a way to take care of themselves. She had never been afraid of going into nursing homes or hospitals. She always wanted to do some kind of charity project to help the people she saw in need. She did this often through school and community organizations, but she also did things on her own.

“Larry’s given his own version of the story,” Melissa said. “But I always thought it started when she was four, long before the divorce. Some girl friends and I went out to the rodeo and we took Grace with us. We stayed for the Martina McBride concert after the rodeo, and that night Martina McBride performed the song ‘Concrete Angel.’ Grace really liked that song, and I remember her asking me, ‘Mom, what was that song about?’ And so I told her that it was a song that had been written to raise awareness about child abuse. We found a tape recording of it and she’d listen to it over and over again. One day she came up to me and said, ‘Mom, I want to help people who’ve been hurt like the little girl in the song. I want to do that.’ And she did. I was so proud of her for following her dream, for wanting to make a difference in the world.” Melissa wiped her tears and swallowed. “Now, we were hoping to have someone perform the song ‘Concrete Angel’ on the piano for us today. Unfortunately the pianist we originally hired was unable to make it, but my sister Ellen has told me that one of our friends from S.H.I.E.L.D. knows how to play the piano and would be willing to play for us. But, before the performance, I’d just like to say one more goodbye to Grace.” She looked at the coffin and said, “Goodbye Grace. I’ll miss your sweet smile. I’ll miss holding you in my arms. I’ll miss being able to look forward to hearing about all of the people you were going to help. But I hope that I’ll remember the people you did get to help. I hope that your legacy will continue with the people who continue to make the world a better place.” She raised her kerchief to her face and went to sit down.

That was Hillary’s cue. Standing up with the sheet music in one hand, she walked over to the piano on the left side of the room. She was conscious of the many pairs of eyes on her as she lifted the keyboard cover and sat down. She opened the music out in front of her and started to play. Hillary made a few mistakes at first, partly from nerves, but they were subtle, and no one in the audience, she thought, would really have noticed. She pushed aside the distracting thoughts and put herself into the music. But it was hard not to think of the girl who’d been inspired by the song--and who’d fallen in love with Hillary’s friend, whose death was the cause of him running back into the darkness and the unknown.

Hillary took several deep breaths when she finished. She turned around. She expected someone to stand up and say a few concluding remarks. But the head of the mortuary staff stood up.

“If that is the conclusion of the service, we will now carry the casket out to the hearse,” he said solemnly. Everyone stood to their feet. The mortuary staff opened the door on the far side of the chapel, which lead directly outdoors. The mourners filed past the coffin, touching the lid of it one more time on their way out. Hillary went with her S.H.I.E.L.D. friends. The family was the last to exit. The kerchief was glued to Melissa’s face now. The casket on its trolley was pushed gently outside to a spot a few feet behind the open back door of the hearse. The pallbearers gathered around it: Grace’s father and stepfather, her brother, and three uncles. They gently loaded the casket into the hearse, and the funeral director closed the door.

Grace’s immediate family got into the hearse. But Melissa’s sister and niece came to find Hillary.

“Here’s your music back,” Hillary said shakily, handing the pages back to Grace’s aunt. 

“That was a lovely performance,” she replied. “Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure.”

“We really do appreciate this. Grace would’ve loved it,” said Grace’s cousin. She patted Hillary on the arm, and then they turned to leave. The mourners headed for the parking lot  
to get in their cars and join the funeral cortege.

Coulson sighed and turned around, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Mitch followed him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Kristie and Agent Orwin were silent. 

While the rest of them left the chapel, Hillary remained behind. She sat down at the piano.

With her religious upbringing, she had a hard time understanding how these people had any hope. Death was just the end to them. Hillary wanted to tell somebody that it wasn’t.  
But she couldn’t. Coulson wouldn’t have allowed it. 

So instead, Hillary played a hymn.

Be still my soul, the hour is hast’ning on  
When we shall be forever with the Lord.  
When disappointment, grief and fear are gone,  
Sorrow forgot, love’s purest joys restored.  
Be still my soul, when change and tears are past,  
All safe and blessed we shall meet at last.

Hillary reflected on that last line, ‘all safe and blessed we shall meet at last.’ It wasn’t so much the afterlife she was thinking of as this life. Was there any realistic hope that Bucky would let himself be found after this tragedy? 

She had thought she had accepted the fact that she would never see him again. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she wanted him back in Arizona--back home, where he was loved and safe. He was a part of her life whether she wanted him to be or not.

The mortuary staff came back into the chapel to start stacking the chairs. They complimented her on her playing but she barely acknowledged them. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and stared at the piano as she wept.

The chairs were stacked much faster than she would have expected. The room empty, the workers turned off the lights and left.

Then Coulson came in. He put his hand on Hillary’s shoulder.

“Hillary, listen to me. I’m sure wherever he is, Bucky can take care of himself. You need to go on with your own life.”

“I miss him.”

“That’s okay.”

She hugged Coulson and continued crying on his shoulder. He led her to the bathroom to so she could wash up. 

Orwin, Mitch, and Kristie were sitting on the couches in the front lobby.

“I’m sorry to keep you guys waiting,” said Hillary.

“It’s okay,” said Mitch. “Are we ready to go, then?”

“Yes.” She was ready to be done with this whole sorry episode.

She spent the night at Kristie’s again. She called her parents to tell them about the funeral. And she called Mark to tell him how sad she was feeling--and Mark didn’t mind at all.  
Hillary had hoped they would leave soon after, but they ended up staying in Denver for two more days. Coulson was needed to help Agent Orwin talk to a representative from Homeland Security about getting the Free Range Party classified as a terrorist organization. Hillary wasn’t invited to join in these proceedings, so instead she sat at a borrowed computer and finished filing the report on Grace’s death and burial.

There's a boy here in town, says he'll love me forever,  
Who would have thought forever could be severed by...

...the sharp knife of a short life, oh well?  
I've had just enough time...

If I die young, bury me in satin  
Lay me down on a bed of roses  
Sink me in the river at dawn  
Send me away with the words of a love song

Coulson had to call Hillary’s name several times to get her attention. She turned her music to pause.

“Steve’s just finished visiting Grace’s parents. He says he’d like you to come meet with him.”

“Steve who?”

“Steve Rogers. Who else?”

“What? He’s here?”

“Yes. He says he’d like to meet with you at the cemetery where Grace is buried.”

“Okay.”

Coulson gave her the address. Hillary borrowed one of the S.H.I.E.L.D. cars and drove out to Meadows Cemetery, which while a lengthy drive from the S.H.I.E.L.D. office was in roughly the same neighborhood as the mortuary. It was a broad lawn ringed with trees, covered with monuments of every shape and size. Coulson had told her Grace’s plot was off to one side with the newer graves.

Hillary parked on the east side and walked out from under the trees. There was a mound of dirt over a newly-dug grave that was still decorated with flowers and balloons. There was a man standing next to it, looking down. He was wearing a baseball cap over his head but when he looked up at the sound of her footsteps she saw his face.

“Thought that was you,” she said.

“Tanner, how are you?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she answered, shrugging just a little. She walked up next to Steve and looked at the grave. There was a marble headstone at the head of the grave. It listed Grace’s full  
name, birth and death dates, and had a picture of an angel carved into it.

“I see they got the headstone in already,” said Hillary.

“Yeah, that was fast. Apparently their online fundraiser was a success.”

“How are you?” she asked Steve.

“I’m fine,” he answered.

“And how’s the team?”

“They’re doing okay. Licking their wounds after their last assignment. And of course, when Cap’s feeling down, then everybody’s down.”

“That’s not good.”

“Yeah.” Steve took a deep breath, burying his hands deeper into his pockets. “This was his first girlfriend, you know. He dated a ton of girls but never had the guts to commit.  
He finally picks one...and then this happens. I met Grace briefly last December. I thought she had a thing for him. I thought maybe this would be just another one that he’d leave. I guess he’s changed more than I thought.”

They didn’t say anything else. Finally Steve turned around. “Come with me,” he said.

“Okay.” Hillary left the grave and walked alongside Steve towards the trees. There was a park bench not far from where she had parked. 

“Hillary, I never apologized to you for what happened in March,” he said. 

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“No, I really do.”

“I thought Captain America doesn’t apologize.”

“He doesn’t. But I do.”

“Are you saying there’s a difference?”

“There is.”

Hillary turned to face him. “Well if that’s the case, then why didn’t you come see Bucky when he was in Albuquerque? You KNEW he was there the entire time--I told you about it.  
I was open with you this time. Why didn’t you do anything about it?”

Steve shrugged dejectedly. “I knew where he was. And I knew he was happy. I figured he’d be okay. I just didn’t have the time between--”

“Going out and hunting Hydra and running the Avengers. I see how it is. Steve Rogers doesn’t exist anymore, does he? Not if you can’t even make time to look for your best friend. I thought you’d be looking out for him more.”

“We’ve been through this, he doesn’t even wanna see me,” said Steve. 

“You could have tried!”

“Listen to yourself. You were trying to hide him from me a year ago. And now you want me to go find him.”

“I know,” said Hillary. She hung her head.

“Look, Hydra is still out there. If I’m keeping Hydra from rebuilding, then it’s one less thing that Bucky has to look over his shoulder for--”

“Hydra this, Hydra that! You can’t just quit, can you?” she asked.

“No, I can’t,” said Steve. “I’ve tried. But I don’t fit in anywhere. You’re fighting Hydra, too. You know what’s at stake here. You know why I can’t stop.”

“You’re going to alienate everyone you care about, you know that?” said Hillary. “Don’t you even care about yourself? Don’t you even care about anything else, besides fighting  
Hydra?”

Steve couldn’t come up with a response.

“Do you remember,” Hillary said, “when I hung out with you at S.H.I.E.L.D. school, when I took you to the mall and we watched movies together and we had that party at Peggy’s rest home? Remember all that? I didn’t do that for Captain America. Captain America isn’t my friend. Steve is. That’s who I spent four months trying to convince Bucky to remember. It isn’t Steve Rogers he’s afraid of.”

“And since when am I your friend, Hillary? I thought you were like everybody else. I thought you just liked running around with Captain America.”

“Why do you think I ever let Bucky into my house last Thanksgiving? Because I thought I could do something for you--something to make you happy. I’ve known you long enough to know that you haven’t really been happy after the whole ice thing. Going out and saving the world--that hasn’t done anything for you.”

“I know, it hasn’t,” said Steve soberly. “Hillary, I’ve tried multiple times to sacrifice myself to stop Hydra. And it hasn’t worked. But I can give my life by living it so that other people can be free. And safe. So that what happened to Grace doesn’t have to happen again. I’m not doing this for me. I’m doing this for you. For your family. For Bucky. For Grace’s parents. For everyone. I’m an Avenger. I don’t fight for myself. I never have.”

“I know you do. And I know what you’ve been through. But do you know why we’re here? We’re here because Bucky realized he didn’t have to be the Winter Soldier anymore. He realized he could be whoever he wanted to be. I’m not accusing you, Steve,” she added. “I mean, if you had been looking out for him, you might have prevented this,”--she gestured at the decorated grave a short distance away -- “but who knows what may or may not have happened if things had been different. But you, you don’t have to throw your life away to keep the world safe,” she said, reaching up to touch him on the shoulder. “You don’t have to do any of this.”

“I know. I really am sorry that I didn’t do anything about him being in Albuquerque. If I’d been in contact with him at all, I could have prevented this. I’m just torn up because I’ve failed to prevent my best friend from getting hurt. Again. I don’t know how much longer I can take this, I really don’t.”

“I feel your pain,” she said quietly. She wanted to ask him if he was going to do something about it. But she had said enough mean things for one setting. “I’m sorry, I got carried away. I believe you were apologizing to me for last March.”

“Yes,” said Steve. They walked forward towards the bench. “I just wanted to say, the way I treated you in March was really uncalled for. I should never have gotten mad at you for  
that--it wasn’t your fault. And I’m sorry I’ve held it against you.”

“It’s all right. I forgive you,” said Hillary. 

They sat down on the bench and looked across the cemetery lawn, their eyes on the shiny mylar balloons over Grace’s grave.

“It’s really pretty out here,” Hillary commented.

“Yeah, it is,” said Steve. “They couldn’t have picked a better spot.”

“How are Grace’s parents?”

“They’re fine. Still really upset. A little flustered that Captain America would take an interest in their daughter’s death. But really grateful. And they’re grateful to S.H.I.E.L.D., too, for all your help.”

Hillary nodded.

“Any leads on the murderer?”

Hillary looked at him.

“Did Coulson not tell you?”

“No. What didn’t he tell me?”

“You were gone, right. But we think that the murderer was Jamie Sneld. The bruising on Grace’s body looked like they could have been her illusions. And someone matching Jamie’s description was seen near the apartment before the murder happened.”

Hillary didn’t know how much more bad news Steve could take. He took of his baseball hat.

“I don’t know what else to tell you,” said Hillary. “But it’s not surprising, considering she was last known to be working for Hydra.”

“But how didn’t we find her yet?” Steve said. He swore. “We’ve scoured the globe five times by now rooting up every Hydra location we could find. She never turned up.”

“I don’t blame Jamie for this,” said Hillary. “Inasmuch as it is her fault. But I’m not going to hold it against her personally.”

“Well that’s easy for you to say, but she attacked my best friend!” Steve cussed again. 

“Please watch your language. I know you’re stressed.”

Steve huffed angrily. 

“We were friends in S.H.I.E.L.D. school, too. I knew her...or I thought I knew her. She must have joined Hydra about the same time she joined S.H.I.E.L.D. Sitwell was her trainer, I remember now.”

“That’s right,” said Hillary. “But we had no way of knowing how things would turn out. There was nothing anyone could have done to prevent her...to have prevented this. So it’s no use blaming ourselves or anyone else.”

“You’re right. It’s not.” Steve paused for a moment. “Coulson said that Bucky mentioned in the note that he’d made you a promise. What was it?”

Hillary swallowed. “He promised me that he would spend Christmas with you this year.” She looked up at Steve. “Like I said, I took him in for you. But then I realized I couldn’t  
force him to reconcile with his past. I just needed to love him. That’s all he needs. Someone to love him. That’s why he went to Grace.”

“Do you think he’ll go back to your family?”

“No,” said Hillary. “Hydra knows where I live. Even with additional protection from S.H.I.E.L.D., he’d never feel safe there.”

Steve reached his hand to Hillary’s and squeezed it. “So you know, I appreciate all you’ve done for him. You and your family.”

“Thanks.”

She and Steve hugged.

“I thought you knew for sure that I’d find him.”

“I don’t know if that’s true anymore,” said Hillary.

“Well, we’ll wait and see, then.” Steve squeezed her one more time. He got up from the bench and turned to leave, but then he patted Hillary on the shoulder. And he was gone.

 

Phil Coulson stopped by S.H.I.E.L.D.’s headquarters to do something at his office before going home. He’s said goodbye to Mitch and Hillary at the D.C. airport and they’d gone back to their apartments. 

It was late at night, and no one else was in the suite. He turned on the lights and then unlocked the door to his office before stepping in. Everything was as he’d left it.

He got onto his computer and copied the files from the murder investigation to his desktop, reflecting as he did so. Since leaving Hydra, the Winter Soldier had crossed the country and left a trail of violence and bloodshed wherever he went. Yet not only bad things, but stories of unlikely friendship and love as well. If Bucky had been on the road to anywhere, it was recovery. 

Was this where it ended, in the brutal murder of an innocent woman at the hands of Hydra?

Finished with the files, Coulson withdrew the flash drive from the USB port. He then stood up to look out his office window at the city nightscape. Was Bucky out there somewhere, in the darkness? Was there any chance for him, now that Hydra had taken away the love of his life?

Coulson prided himself on being Captain America’s biggest fan. He had held high hopes that Steve would be reunited with his old sidekick and be able to rehabilitate him. Now even he wasn’t sure if there was a chance that could happen. Bucky had survived worse at this point, but the loss of a romantic partner could have traumatic effects. Coulson knew that from experience--though he hid it well.

Looking behind him, he saw the reminders of a more recent loss. Emily Bridger had been the light of his life, when other lights had gone out. And now she was gone. Hillary Tanner was strong, but she had neither Emily’s wisdom nor her insight into the universe.

Had it been a year already, since she had left?

What was it Emily had said to Coulson a few days before she had gone to Asgard? They had been talking about Bucky.

“Don’t worry about Bucky. He has a great destiny...Bucky has to come home eventually, because Fate has something planned for him.” 

Almost as if Emily had been there to comfort him, Coulson knew it for himself--there was something that still needed to happen. 

Emily hadn’t said exactly what Bucky’s destiny was, but she had been sure he would meet it.

Destiny. Is that what Bucky had been running from all this time? Not just himself--not just who he had been, but what he could be?

And what could he be?

Coulson picked up his briefcase, turned the light off, and left his office. His mind was made up. There wasn’t any reason to give up on Bucky. Not yet.


End file.
